


The Dragon, The Sorcerer and The Witch Out Of Time

by Maisey2k10



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Humour, Magic, Romance, time-travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:59:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 190,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25025041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maisey2k10/pseuds/Maisey2k10
Summary: Finding herself one thousand years back in the past and in the legendary Kingdom of Camelot was something Hermione had never seen coming. But with no possible way back to the future and being stuck in the past, Hermione had no option but to form a new life for herself, and hopefully without changing the timeline. Unfortunately, matters of the heart cannot be controlled and she finds herself entwined in the lives of Prince Arthur and the great and powerful sorcerer, Merlin. Rated for language, violence and sexual content. HGxAP pairing! Time-Travel! Writing in Progress!
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 169





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own canon events and characters, they belong to J.K Rowling and the creators of Merlin, and the BBC, everything else is mine. I am not making a profit from writing and posting this fanfic. I'm also making some big changes to the Merlin plotline so don't be surprised that nothing matches with canon. If I'm being honest, it's been years since I last saw the series, so I'm mostly going off what I remember and episode reviews and notes. And I've decided Arthur won't be dying. Some aspects will follow Merlin canon and some will follow Harry Potter. For example, wands have not yet been created Merlin, but they have in Harry Potter, so I'm siding with Merlin canon for this one. 
> 
> Rated for language, violence and sexual content. 
> 
> Page count: 7

"William!" Hermione signed in annoyance.

"Yes, milady," the brunette replied, his mouth twitching into a smile.

"If you do not stop, I swear, I'll purposely stab you," she told him lightly, her eyes remaining fixed on his forearm and her hands continuing with the motion of stitching the open wound back together.

"Milady?" He questioned innocently.

"You know exactly what you're doing. Not only is it annoying, but incredibly distracting. Don't play the innocent act with me, you've got nothing on the Weasley Twins," she said, her mouth twitching the faintest bit and her voice filled with fond sadness.

"Are they from your Kingdom?" He questioned, tilting his head curiously. It wasn't often the pretty sorceress divulged details of her past.

It had been a year since he'd found her. He'd been minding his own business, focusing on his task of trekking through the woods in search of firewood, when there'd been an explosion so loud, the ground had shaken and birds had fled from their nests with squawks. Despite the incident, there'd been no sign of screaming or injured people or of smoke and debris and his curiosity had gotten the better of him and he'd headed towards the source.

Everything had seemed to be perfectly normal, except for the figure lying sprawled out on the ground on their stomach. He hadn't been sure of who it was at first, but when he'd drawn closer, he'd seen a wild mess of hair, _very_ strange clothing and a young woman clutching a wooden stick in her hand.

In his surprise, he'd dropped the firewood he'd been carrying in his arms and he'd closed the distance, falling to his knees beside her and rolling her onto her back. If he'd thought her clothing had been strange before, he'd certainly gotten a surprise when he saw the strange material and the way they fit to her form. His surprise had quickly been replaced by horror, seeing the dirt and blood that had soaked through the area of her stomach and right shoulder, the burns in her clothing that had reached the skin of her left leg, shoulder and right upper arm. Cuts had littered her face, some larger than others with blood barely trickling and others gushing down the side of her face, her hair sticking to her temple and cheek. Her skin had been sickly pale and clammy, her eyes sunken and her cheekbones sticking out.

He knew it wouldn't have been right to leave her there, he wasn't even sure _how_ she'd gotten there and without thought, he'd done his best to lift her into his arms without disturbing her. He'd lost balance and almost dropped her, and yet, she didn't wake nor did she lose her grip on the strange wooden stick in her grasp.

Although she was by no means heavy, actually seeming to be lighter in weight than she should've been, he'd travelled farther than he usually did and it took more time than usual to arrive home. When he'd stepped out of the cover of the trees, he'd drawn the attention of some of the villagers, only two of them rushing forward to help whilst the others stared silently or whispered between one another. He'd refused their aid and carried her to Hunith's home, the only woman he'd trust with the young, injured woman in his arms.

Upon opening the door after the series of kicks he'd placed against the wood, the older woman's eyes had widened before ushering him inside, instructing him to lay her down on the table as she pottered about, searching for what little healing supplies she had available. Even when he'd been instructed to leave, he couldn't do so and seeing this, the mother of his best friend had allowed him to stay but had forced him towards her cot where she'd pulled a sheet to close him off from the rest of the small hut, allowing her and the young woman some privacy whilst she worked.

He wasn't quite sure how long he'd paced, how many times he cracked his knuckles or counted the stone of the walls that surrounded him. Hunith had a tendency to talk to herself and he was frustrated to find that although she'd been doing just that, she'd been doing it so quietly he hadn't been able to hear. It seemed as though hours had passed but he knew otherwise, there being no sign of changes in the sky, but he'd always been impatient, so he was thankful when she _finally_ called for his presence.

"Her injuries will heal and she will be fine," she told him, and he unknowingly let out a sigh of relief.

He might not have known her, she was just a stranger to him, and yet he'd been the one to find her and bring her back to the village, so he knew it was only right he be concerned for her health; he hadn't gone to so much trouble to carry her home for her to just die.

"What happened to her, William?" Hunith asked.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I was collecting firewood when I heard an explosion. I followed the direction of the sound and found _her_. Do you know what happened to her?"

"I can't say for certain but I believe she shall wake soon," the older woman spoke. "Would you please keep watch as I collect some clean water from the well?"

He nodded, receiving a smile from the older woman who was but like a mother to him and when she left through the door, he took up the mantle of sitting on the stool beside the table, watching the young woman carefully.

Hunith had been wrong. It had taken two days for her to wake. During the day he'd tend to his duties of being the baker in the village, and the nights he spent sat on the stool beside the young woman until he fell asleep. If Hunith minded that he was invading her privacy when she was trying to sleep, he didn't know, but she'd yet to say anything.

Two days was a long time for someone to be sleeping. At first, he wasn't even sure she was alive given the lack of movement from her, but he'd soon seen her chest moving as she breathed slowly and quietly, but that was the _only_ movement from her.

It was on the third night of him sitting beside her when he noticed the change in her breathing, when he saw her mouth part slightly, her eyes fluttering beneath her eyelids and her hands twitching, the right one gripping tightly to the wooden stick in her hand. Hunith had tried to remove it from the young woman's grasp several times over the days but hadn't been able to.

He sat straight on the stool, relaxing his body and face so he wouldn't look threatening and he remained quiet, allowing the young woman to wake in her own time. He thought of waking Hunith but decided against it.

It was a few moments later when he saw the eyes slowly open, blinking once, twice, her long dark lashes brushing her high cheekbones. She didn't move or speak, at least until he got a tickle in the back of his throat and he coughed to ease it. It was louder than he'd intended and it startled her. With a speed he thought should've been impossible, she was off the table and on the other side of the small hut, her eyes wide with fear, her hand braced against the wall behind her to steady her as she swayed, and the stick pointed threateningly in his direction.

"Careful," he said calmly, holding his hands up to show he had no weapons and he meant her no harm. "I mean you no harm."

"What happened?" She spoke, her voice a little hoarse from a lack of use and she frowned, pushing herself away from the wall and rubbing at her throat.

"I don't know," he answered. "I was collecting firewood when I found you. I brought you back to the village and you were treated to the best of our ability. We don't have a physician but Hunith is able to manage a few burns and cuts."

Her eyes lowered to the ground for a moment and then snapped up to him and she slowly lowered the wooden stick.

"If you don't mind my asking, who are you?"

"My name's Hermione," she responded.

"I'm William," he tilted his head. "Where did you come from? What happened to you?"

Her eyes fluttered closed and her jaw ticked as a thoughtful look crossed her face and then she looked back to him. Her eyes were more intense than they had been and he noticed her eyes take in his clothing slowly and then they darted about the small hut, widening in alarm.

"Godric!" She whispered, her eyes falling back to him. "Where am I?"

He watched her carefully. "Ealdor, a village of the Kingdom of Essetir."

"I don't understand," she muttered, shaking her head lightly and her wild hair fell into her face before she pushed it back over her shoulder.

"We're but a two day's ride from Camelot."

"I beg your pardon," she spluttered.

He looked to her strangely. "Camelot."

"Camelot?" She repeated dumfounded. "As in King Arthur?"

"No, well, someday, King Uther is on the throne and Arthur is but a Prince."

"Oh no! That's not possible," she whispered, before promptly passing out. He hadn't been able to catch her before she hit the ground.

It was another two days before she next woke and he'd received a telling off from Hunith for what had happened to her charge during her time sleeping. She'd been disorientated but hadn't sprung from the table, rather she sat up slowly, turning to face him and dangling her legs over the edge. He allowed her to gather her thoughts and she was the one to speak to him first.

That night, he'd learned of her belonging to the far off Kingdom of Hogwarts, of the war that had spanned decades and the trials it had brought her. She'd explained of how the Final Battle had taken place and once the Evil Lord had been destroyed, his Knights had fled. They'd been chasing her across the kingdoms and realms and had caught up with her in the woods and that was how she'd been injured. The next morning she'd spent time with Hunith and was given permission to leave, but she didn't. She stayed in the village.

It was two months later when he'd been walking towards Hermione's home which had miraculously been built on the outskirts of the village within two weeks of her arrival, when he witnessed her using magic for the first time with her lighting a fire pit. He'd known she was different, he didn't know how, but he had. She'd been horrified when she'd noticed his presence but not only did William have experience with keeping secrets regarding magic, he knew Hermione wasn't evil and she certainly had more control over her magic than Merlin had. He'd warned her of King Uther having outlawed magic and sorcery two decades prior and he kept her secret from the rest of the villagers.

A year after her arrival, Hermione was not only a well-liked member of the village due to her kindness and patience, but she had become their physician as they'd soon learned that not only was she _very_ well educated, but her knowledge of healing far outweighed Hunith's, of which the older woman had been surprised but pleased with. When the young woman wasn't cooking up remedies and healing the injured, she taught not only the children but the adults as well, to read and write.

Looking at her now, William marvelled at the changes in her. Her behaviour was the same from the moment she'd woken up; she was kind and fiercely protective of those she cared for, to a standard that actually scared him, if he were honest. The physical changes were the most apparent. William knew that Hermione had always been a pretty young woman, but her cheeks were no longer sunken, her skin no longer sickly or clammy, her figure no longer malnourished. They didn't have much to offer in the ways of food but with the little scraps they'd been able to spare and give to her, she'd put on some weight.

With her beauty, kindness, intelligence and penchant for helping and protecting others, he knew that when she was ready to marry she wouldn't be short of suitors. William was only a little disappointed that he wouldn't be one of them. In the beginning, there had been potential between them but with too many mixed and missed signals, their relationship had quickly gone from maybe husband and wife, to best friend and sibling. He _did_ love Hermione but as a friend and sister.

It was his own fault. He'd seen the way she sometimes watched him as he baked when she visited, when she accompanied him on walks through the woods in search of firewood or when she taught him to read and write. But he'd been too afraid, he hadn't felt himself worthy of her and those looks and glances suddenly faded. Sensing the change within her, he'd fought back his own feelings and they had soon formed into familial love. If he'd plucked up the courage, they may have been courting by now.

"Yes, they are from my Kingdom," Hermione replied softly. "I knew them very well, their parents all but raised me once I discovered my magic."

"They had magic, too?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Lord and Lady Weasley had seven children, six sons and one daughter. The youngest son, Ronald, was my best friend and his brothers and sister, my brothers and sister, too. I loved them very dearly. The twins, Fred and George, were hard to take seriously. They were full of life and laughter and they were the greatest jesters of my Kingdom. Even those that disliked them couldn't deny they were brilliant. They were incredibly smart, more so than I am."

"What happened to them?"

"George lost an ear during a battle a year before the Final Battle, and during the battle, Fred was severely injured, a wall had fallen on him. I left minutes after the Dark Lord had been killed and as such, I don't know if Fred survived. I don't know who survived and who did not."

"So why not go home? Why not travel to your Kingdom?"

"I can't ever go home, William," she said softly. "It is not possible."

William wasn't an idiot. Although he knew Hermione had shared deeply personal and important secrets with him, he knew there were still things she kept from him and he hoped she would someday tell him, but at that moment in time, he had to respect her wishes.

"All done," she said, pulling back from him and placing her 'tweezers' as she called them, down on the table beside him.

He looked down to his forearm, seeing the cleaned and sealed wound she'd stitched back together. With the work she'd done on his arm, he was sure she'd be a brilliant seamstress, the quality of her clothing only proved that.

"Please be careful," she said.

"It's not my fault," he protested.

"You are the one that was distracted and as such, fell and cut your arm on a sharp rock. I'm not entirely sure how you managed that, to be honest, given the positioning of the wound. In any case, try not to rip the stitches or the wound will reopen and bleed."

"Thank you, milady," he grinned, seeing the way she scowled at him in annoyance and she moved over to a bucket of water to clean her hands of his blood. "I best collect the firewood I dropped. Do you require more?"

"I'm perfectly capable of collecting my own firewood, William," she glared.

"I know, but I will be trekking through the woods anyway, it will save you a trip."

"Very well," she agreed begrudgingly and he grinned at her.

She crossed the room and collected the bucket by the side of the door, bringing it over to him, he took it from her and gave her a curious look.

"I have spelled it, not only will it carry more wood than you are able to, but the weight shall be nothing but a stone."

"Magic at its finest," he smiled.

"Magic is capable of many wonderful things, but many terrible things, too," she responded softly, a far off look entering her eyes.

William had seen this happen before and he knew to be careful when he reached out to her, sitting his large hand on her shoulder, her eyes darting back to him and she shook her head, ridding herself of the memories. William never knew if they were good or bad, he asked but she never answered.

"I shall make a start on dinner," she smiled. "Some of the children are looking a little peaky and I hunted two rabbits last night, they should do nicely. If you hurry, I'll be sure to keep some behind for you."

"I'll be as quick as I can," he nodded. "Do you require tree moss?" He asked, knowing she not only used it in her remedies but as insulation for her hut and as temporary bandages, too.

"Now that you mention it," she frowned thoughtfully, heading over to a second door and peeking inside the small storage space. "Yes, both green and orange."

"I shall keep my eyes open."

"Thank you, William. And do be careful."

"As my lady commands," he bowed, laughing as she swotted at his arm when he passed her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 6

It had been a year since her arrival and she still couldn't believe that she was stuck in the past, and not just the past, but one thousand years before she was due to be born and in bloody Camelot, no less.

It had taken a few days for her mind to unfold, for her memories to come back to her. The Final Battle had been upon them, they were all fighting valiantly, refusing to surrender no matter of their injuries, their dead or of them being outnumbered. Giving up meant condemning the world to a life of slavery and suffering, it meant ruining the future for generations to come, dark magic and people taking over and changing the values of the Wizarding World. It meant sentencing innocent children and people to slaughter and torture, to a life of hell. They couldn't give up, no matter of their losses.

Hermione, devastated by Fred's injury and potential death and by the loss of Harry, had refused to surrender. She was fighting for those like her, for those that were willing to stand up and do what was right, for those that couldn't fight for themselves. Needless to say, she'd been beyond surprised when Harry fell from the lovable half-giant's arms and stood to his feet, drawing Voldemort into a duel.

The moment Neville had taken off the head of Nagini, he'd dropped the Sword of Gryffindor in favour of his wand, sending powerful hexes and charms to his opponents. Hermione had never been prouder of her fellow Gryffindor, and she'd told him so as she ran past him, patting him on the back and leaving behind his flushed cheeks and ducked head.

Her intention had been to reach the Sword of Gryffindor before any of Voldemort's Death Eaters did, not wanting a powerful magical artefact, the only artefact of the Four Founder's left in existence, to fall into the wrong hands.

She dropped to the ground as Unforgivables dashed over her head and shoulders and she slipped the sword into her beaded bag for safekeeping, before rolling over and pushing herself back onto her feet, jumping back into battle.

It was when Voldemort had fallen to the ground, that all violence stopped and silence reigned. That lasted all of a few moments before Death Eaters fled and others fought to the death, rather wishing to die than be taken into custody and thrown into Azkaban. It was at that moment when she'd found herself separated from the others and she was being chased through the Forbidden Forest. She couldn't quite remember what happened next, only that she was cornered in a clearing and with no knowledge of a shield that could defend against so many attackers, -eight, she thought- she'd known she was going to die but wouldn't do so without putting up a fight. As she shot off as many hexes and charms as she could, five different spells headed her way, colliding with one another before hitting her square in the chest with such a force it lifted her off her feet.

And then she woke up on the table of Hunith's hut.

Discovering that not only had she travelled so far back in time, but that she was in Camelot, the time before King Arthur's reign, had been so overwhelming she hadn't been able to cope. Remaining asleep for a couple of days had allowed her overactive mind to calm and focus, working on a plan. She _knew_ there was no way back home. She knew from experience you could travel back but not forwards, and despite having the knowledge of the great sorcerer, Merlin, -she still couldn't believe it, _Merlin_ himself!- being in this time, she was positive even he would not know of a way to send her home. She felt it in her bones, her heart and her magical core.

She was stuck.

She had to find a way to live in the past without changing the timeline. Oh, how _easy_ that would be.

She owed a great deal to the Hunith, –whose son happened to be named Merlin, how odd?- who'd patched her up the best she could with the little resources she had. She'd offered Hermione a place to stay in her small home but Hermione thought she'd imposed enough and gracefully turned down her offer. She hadn't known what else to do and after William had taken her for a walk around the small village, she knew she had nowhere else to go. So she stayed.

For the first couple of weeks she'd hauled up in the tent she'd stashed away in her beaded bag and knowing she wouldn't be able to do so for much longer with people always wandering the woods, hunting and collecting firewood, she built herself a little wooden house with the aid of magic.

The villagers had soon grown used to her presence and her strangeness, as it was clear she wasn't from around these parts, way off in fact, and they welcomed her reading and writing lessons and her healing and remedies. Hermione was grateful for her trusty beaded bag having been stashed in her pocket at the time of the spell collision, allowing her access to her books and tomes. Ron hadn't seen the point of her placing most of the Black library in her bag, but she was glad she'd done so, many of the texts being healing and natural remedies focused. She was careful with what little potion stores she had. A lot of the ingredients she had could be found easily enough, some of them could easily be planted and hidden with magic whilst they grew and were ready to be harvested, others, were only to be used in cases of dire need given the lack of accessibility she had to acquiring more, the majority of such only being found halfway across the world or had yet to be discovered or invented.

It had taken some time to adjust to her new life. She was not used to things being so quiet and calm, she was used to danger and adrenaline. She missed her family and friends –she wondered how they were fairing after Voldemort's death, if they knew of her disappearance, if they thought she was dead, if they were getting on with their lives and living them to their fullest as she'd want them to-, she missed the modern foods, music, transport, and especially the showers, toilets and clothing.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a shower; she hated feeling dirty and unclean so she made sure to wash with the aid of magic, using Cleaning and Refreshing Charms as often as possible, she washed twice a day and she did her best to bathe a couple of times a week, transfiguring a bucket into a bath and heating the conjured water with a wave of her wand. One thing was certain, the village may run out of food but they'd never be short of water, not if she could help it.

She'd die to be able to use a toilet again, hating having to use a bucket or chamber pot but to her advantage, she was able to vanish anything that exited her body with a wave of her wand whilst others had to dispose of it themselves.

And clothes, she _hated_ the clothing of this time period. She hated her movements being restricted by tight dresses and she hated tripping on the long skirts, so more often than not, she wore leather boots, dark breeches and tunics of any colour she could charm with a cloak over the top. She knew the villagers found her strange, particular her odd clothing choices and even the words she sometimes spoke, but they never said anything as she was their physician and teacher. But Hermione would kill to be able to wear jeans and a t-shirt again, she did sometimes, too, having such items hidden away in her beaded bag.

Having her attention pulled by a loud ruckus, Hermione frowned and set down her knife of which she was just about to use to skin the rabbits she'd caught the previous night. She headed for the door, peeking her head out and her eyes widening as is in the distance, she saw they'd returned, Kanen and his men were raiding the village of what little stores they had.

It took everything Hermione had in her not to use her magic whenever they came for a visit. As much as she was thankful to the people and she adored the children, she couldn't risk anyone discovering her secret. She was close enough to Camelot that King Uther would have his men march for Ealdor and have her executed, no matter if she were a citizen of his Kingdom or not.

She strode from her home and with a flick of her wand, had the door locked with a few extra security measures surrounding it. Her home was built on the outskirts of the woods, it being a short walk to the rest of the village but it was hidden by the trees unless you knew it was there. Kanan didn't so she knew her own stores would be safe.

She saw it, little Elisa who was only but four years in age, and she was dangerously close to being trampled on by a man and his horse. Taking a breath, Hermione picked up her steps into a run and she raced across the field. As soon as horrified gasps and shouts of warning sounded, Hermione dove forward, tackling the young child to the ground and out of the way, holding her against her body and twisting so she took most of the brunt of the fall.

"Elisa," Hermione said softly, the little girl removing her face from being buried in her cloak and lifting her head, showing her red cheeks and tear-filled eyes. "Are you hurt?"

"No," the little girl shook her head. "You saved me."

Hermione gave a small, strained smile as she heard Kanan's men ransacking the villagers' home.

"Of course I did, you need to be more careful, little one," she said, holding the little girl to her as she pushed herself up into a seating position, manoeuvred onto her knees and then stood to her feet, the little girl clinging to her tightly.

"I promise," she whispered, her face buried in Hermione's neck as the sounds around them continued.

Hermione placed a hand on the back of Elisa's head to keep it in place as she didn't wish for the young child to see what was happening and she crossed over to her parents, handing her off to her father who gave Hermione a nod of thanks and he and his wife fussed over their daughter whilst still being aware of their surroundings.

Kanan had pulled his sword and was threatening Hubert, a kind man who's wife had died not long before she had arrived, leaving him a widower and alone with his now six-year-old son, Tobyn. Hermione strode forward, her back straight and her face calm. Suddenly, Tobyn was grabbed and pulled against Kanan's chest, the sword being held over the little boy's torso and caging him in.

"That is enough!" Hermione's voice was clear as it cut through the threats and pleas of the villagers.

The gathered villagers looked to her and then back to Kanan, their eyes widening and worried looks crossing their faces, some of them even shaking their heads to warn her off.

"There is no need for such violence," she said, moving herself so she stood in front of Hubert and standing taller, her chin high and her gaze unflinching as it met their terroriser's. "He is but a child. Let him go."

"This does not concern you," Kanan replied, his eyes spiteful despite them giving her the once over. She wouldn't react to him or give him the satisfaction of making her uncomfortable.

"When you are threatening the life of a child, it most certainly does," she replied.

Her hand reached out towards Tobyn and wrapped gently around his wrist, tugging him towards her carefully to avoid the sharp blade of the sword. Surprisingly, she felt no resistance from Kanan and she pushed Tobyn behind her and into his father's arms.

"Why must you do this? These people are barely able to feed themselves and their children. Surely there are other villages that are bigger and plentiful with food and grain. Where is your humanity?"

She was surprised when a hand suddenly reached out, grasping her throat and squeezing tightly enough to hurt but not to completely cut off her oxygen supply. Yes, she panicked, but she knew better than to show it, so she forced her body to relax and kept her eyes locked on his and her hands held down by her sides.

"You forget your place," he sneered, lowering his face to hers.

"I do not," she gasped out when his fingers tightened briefly. "When you harm children, I cannot stand back and allow such an action to take place. You do not scare me," she said truthfully. "Believe me when I say, I have seen things far more frightening than you, I have faced trials and suffering worse than anything you may possibly do to me. I am _not_ afraid of you and I will not stop until every single one of your men is dead and the people of this village are safe from those like you."

Her breathing turned into gasps as his hand tightened painfully, but even when her eyes filled with tears and she could feel herself going dizzy, she kept her eyes locked with his. It infuriated him.

She coughed and gasped as she found herself free and she stumbled back until there was a sharp pain as her head snapped to the side, a stinging cut forming on her cheek and lip. She'd been backhanded and the ring he wore cut her. She didn't cry, she'd certainly felt worse pain, and she turned her head back to him.

"I am still not afraid of you."

She let out a groan and doubled over when a fist sunk into her stomach and she was briefly aware of the gasps surrounding her. She lifted her head once more.

"My Grandmother can hit better than you, and she's been dead for twelve years."

His eyes blazed with fury and he snatched a double-headed axe from one of his men and raised it high, preparing to bring it down upon her. She didn't close her eyes, she would keep her gaze locked with his until the very end.

He brought it down and Hermione prepared herself for death, only it didn't come. The sound of metal on metal clashed and her eyes widened in surprise when out of nowhere, a man had dismounted a horse and was drawn into a sword fight with several of Kanan's men and he wasn't alone, there was a second man and two women, too. But Hermione couldn't take her eyes off _him_ , seeing his chain mail and armour and the red cape he wore with a crest she didn't quite recognise, but she was sure it was golden dragon. He moved gracefully and effortlessly and it was clear to her he knew exactly what he was doing.

Kanan rose the axe high once more, determined to end her life. The man, he turned and his eyes widened briefly before he darted forward and forced Kanan away from her. Hubert pulled her to her feet and shoved her behind him, insisting that she hide for the time being.

Normally she would've scoffed at such a notion, but this time she ducked behind a hut, not wanting the children to see her in such a state. She leaned back against the wall, breathing heavily and rubbing at her sore throat. The sounds of metal clashing stopped and it was soon followed by galloping horses. She didn't need to look to know they'd been scared away. For now.

A few minutes later she startled when the man that had saved her life appeared beside her without warning. She visibly jumped and he held his hands up, placating her. She almost glared but stopped herself when she remembered she owed him her life.

"I'm sorry for frightening you," he said, "I just wanted to ensure that you are well."

Hermione pushed herself away from the stone wall and stood straight, smoothing out her cloak and clasping her hands in front of her body. Her eyes took in his appearance, noting how handsome he was. He was taller than her, around six-foot and had tanned skin, rumpled blonde hair that was tousled by the wind and the brightest, bluest eyes she'd ever seen. And his teeth! How did someone of this age have such perfect, white teeth? She didn't doubt he'd have a beautiful smile either.

"I am," she nodded. "I am not normally one to be a damsel in distress," she replied and his eyebrow rose. "But on this occasion, I thank you for your help, I owe you my life."

"There is no thanks necessary," he replied.

Her eyes scanned his face before landing on the cut on his cheek and she frowned slightly. "You're injured," she said with a tone of concern.

He frowned and lifted his hand to his cheek when she gestured to her own and he pulled it back, seeing the blood coating his fingers.

"Let's tend to that, shall we?" She said.

"I am fine, it is but a scratch," he replied, a smile pulling at his face. "I must speak with the others and form a plan, Kanan will be back."

"You may do so _after_ your injury has been seen to. It may be but a scratch, but it is still susceptible to infection. Follow me and we will have you tended to."

She stepped around him and began walking but noticing that he wasn't following after her, she stopped and looked over her shoulder. He was staring at her in surprise, his eyes slightly wide. She found it amusing; obviously he'd never had someone boss him around before. Well, Hermione was a master at it.

"Come on, we don't have all day. Kanan will be back and we don't have long to prepare our defences."

With that, she turned once more and headed for her home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 10

Arthur searched for the young woman that had almost been executed, wanting to be sure she hadn't been injured and she'd gotten away safely. It took him a few minutes but from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a dark cloak hidden behind a hut not far from him.

Leaving Merlin, Gwen and Morgana to speak with the villagers, he closed the distance between them and stepped around the hut. She startled, visibly jumping and bringing her hand up to her chest, taking a deep breath.

He honestly hadn't meant to frighten her and now he felt terrible for having done so. He should've realised she'd be easily frightened giving what she'd just faced.

"I'm sorry for frightening you," he said, holding his hands up to show he carried no weapons. "I just wanted to ensure that you are well."

The young woman pushed herself away from the wall and turned to face him. His eyes widened slightly at his first true glance of her, and honestly, she was beautiful. Not in the way of Morgana who was striking, but rather, it was soft and pretty. _Kind_ , he realised,

Her skin was almost as pale as Morgana's but he noticed a few freckles covering the bridge of her little button nose. Her eyes were a dark brown, something he wasn't accustomed to seeing as nearly everyone he'd met or seen had blue or green eyes. Her hair was different, too. It was long, spilling over her shoulders and falling down to just above her waistline. It was brown, a shade darker than the usual brunette and when the sun shone on it, he could see a tint of almost a reddish-purple. It wasn't smooth like Morgana's, rather it was wild with curls that didn't seem to want to be tamed. He’d never seen such hair on a woman. Yes, she _was_ beautiful. Seeing her high cheekbones, he noted the cut on her cheek and his eyes darted down to her lips, seeing the split there, too. He couldn't explain it but he felt angry on her behalf.

"I am," she nodded. "I am not normally one to be a damsel in distress."

His eyebrow cocked of its accord, unsure if he should be amused by her words or intrigued.

"But on this occasion, I thank you for your help, I owe you my life."

"There is no thanks necessary," he replied, watching as she smoothed out her cloak for the third time.

"You're injured," she said with a tone of concern.

He frowned and lifted his hand to his cheek when she gestured to her own and he pulled it back, seeing the blood coating his fingers.

"Let's tend to that, shall we?" She said.

"I am fine, it is but a scratch," he replied, a smile pulling at his face at her concern for him, a stranger. "I must speak with the others and form a plan, Kanan will be back."

"You may do so _after_ your injury has been seen to. It may be but a scratch, but it is still susceptible to infection. Follow me and we will have you tended to."

When she stepped around him and began to wander off, he blinked slowly in surprise, his head and eyes following and watching her movements. That had almost sounded like an order.

"Come on, we don't have all day. Kanan will be back and we don't have long to prepare our defences," she spun to face forward and continued with her walking.

Blinking once more, he realised that it _was_ an order. He was a little annoyed that the woman thought she could give him orders and he would follow them, until he sighed in annoyance knowing that he _was_ going to do it.

Shaking his head, he followed after her and quickly fell into step beside her, watching her from the corner of his eye as she focused her attention forward.

"Hermione!"

The young woman came to a stop and he did so, too, turning to look over his shoulder and seeing a little girl running as fast as she could towards them.

Hermione, that must've been her name he realised. It was pretty, he thought. He watched as she crouched down, catching the little girl as she barrelled into her, almost knocking her off her feet.

"Careful, little one," she laughed softly before frowning when they both heard the sniffles that sounded from her. "Elisa?"

"You got hurt, Hermione," the little girl cried.

"Oh, Sweetie," she whispered gently, cradling the young child against her and rising to her full height. "I promise, I am fine."

"I saw him hit you."

Hermione stiffened, he saw it.

She let out a sigh. "Well, it didn't hurt that much, I promise. Now, you best be getting back to your parents, I promise I'll visit soon and we'll have another reading lesson."

The little girl nodded and pulled her face from being buried in Hermione's neck, looking to her with tears falling down her face. Hermione smiled and reached up, wiping them away gently.

"Thank you for saving me," she said to Hermione.

"You are most welcome, my little ray of sunshine," she said, tapping her on the nose with a finger and the child giggled before hugging her tightly. Hermione set her back on her feet and she turned and ran off. "Be careful!" Hermione called.

"I will," she called back, only to slip and fall on the grass.

Hermione chuckled and shook her head as the little girl climbed back to her feet and continued with her running, and she returned to her journey of leading him to God knows where, seeing as they were leaving the other villagers behind.

"Your name is Hermione?"

"It is,"

"And reading lessons?" He questioned curiously, wishing to break the silence.

"Yes," she nodded. "I teach both the children and adults how to read and write, they seem to enjoy it."

"If you don't mind my asking, what happened with the girl? Why was Kanan going to execute you?"

She let out a puff of air, trying and failing to remove strands of hair from her face and she pushed it over her shoulder in annoyance, amusement bubbling within him at the sight.

"I heard the noise of the village being attacked and left my home. Elisa was almost trampled by one of Kanan's men and his horse, but I was able to reach her in time. I have to say, I've never ran so fast in my life, she gave me quite the fright. As for Kanan himself, he was threatening the life of one of the villagers and then held his son hostage. I cannot stand by when children are exposed to violence and cruelty, so I stepped in. I was able to get Tobyn away from him and back to his father. When I questioned his humanity and informed him that I was most definitely _not_ scared of him, he lost his temper."

"You weren't scared?" He questioned in surprise and intrigue.

"No, far from it. I have faced things in my life that are far more frightening that Kanan and his men. He hit me and when I still wouldn't bow down to him, he punched me in the stomach."

He faltered, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword and his eyes watching her calm features carefully.

"After which, I informed him my Grandmother hits harder than he does."

"Your Grandmother?" He questioned, blinking slowly in surprise.

"Yes," she turned to smile at him.

Her teeth were white and perfect, far too perfect to be a poor villager. And she could read and write, too? Arthur had the feeling the young woman would be very interesting.

"And she's been dead for twelve years, needless to say, he did not appreciate such a comment, which is why he wished to execute me."

He stared at her before a snort he hadn't been able to contain left him. Well, she was certainly amusing, he thought.

"Here we are," she said, gesturing towards a wooden hut by the woods and it was so well disguised that he hadn't noticed it before.

It looked a little bigger than the other huts and when she opened the door and allowed him to step inside first, his eyes scanned his surroundings. It was small, practical and tidy. There were only two doors in the hut, the one he'd just walked through and a second by the kitchen area. He was very much aware that it was a single room but it seemed to be split into sections, the kitchen, a bedchamber and a table, two cots and a cabinet containing remedies and ingredients. He recognised some of them from his visits to Gaius' chambers and he looked to her curiously.

She smiled as she stepped in after him and closed the door behind her. "I am the village's physician," she answered his unasked question.

His eyes widened slightly at the news. A woman physician? He hadn't heard of such a thing.

"If you would please make yourself comfortable on that table," she gestured to the table on the side of the room with the cots, "And I shall be with you momentarily."

He silently crossed over to it and settled himself atop the surface, one foot brushing the floor and the other dangling, swaying back and forth as he rested his hands on his thighs, his eyes searching his surroundings a little more. He noted a lack of personal items which he found odd as it was clearly her home as well as the physician's chambers.

His eyes fell to her, watching her carefully as she retrieved a bucket from behind the second door, a storage room he realised, and she searched for something else, too. Moments later, she approached and set the bucket down on the table beside him along with a handful of cloths. He took a moment to gather the information he knew.

She was both a physician _and_ an educator, meaning she was likely _very_ well educated and intelligent, too. Her teeth were too well looked after for her to be a poor villager. And her earrings. He'd noted, from her position stood before him, that she had her ears pierced and yet they looked to be made of silver. A poor villager wouldn't have such a possession. Things weren't adding up, yet, he couldn't stop himself from watching her. It was almost as if he were drawn to her.

A knock on the door sounded and Hermione frowned before stepping away from him and heading for the door, pulling it open to reveal a young boy that looked to Hermione with a toothy grin.

"Tobyn? What can I help you with?" She asked softly.

Tobyn? He thought. Wasn't that the name of the boy she'd saved?

"I wanted to thank you for helping me," he said.

"You are very welcome, Sweetie, but I don't require a thank you. I would do anything to ensure your safety."

He grinned at her before removing his hands from behind his back and revealing that he held a bunch of hastily ripped up wildflowers.

"I brought you flowers."

Hermione blinked slowly before a smile pulled at her face. "Thank you, Tobyn, that was very kind of you," she replied, taking the flowers from him.

"I wish to marry you."

Arthur's eyebrows rose high on his forehead and Hermione laughed softly.

"I shall make you a deal, young Tobyn. If I am not married when you reach the age of adulthood, then I shall marry you," she said. The young boy grinned and nodded furiously, a laugh falling from Hermione once more. "Thank you for the flowers, they are beautiful and I have to say, Tobyn, you are the first young man to ever bring me such a gift."

"But you're so beautiful," he blushed.

Hermione smiled at him. "Thank you, Tobyn, but not everyone shares your opinion. Now, you get back to your father. I shall visit with you tonight to read you a story before bed," she leaned down and pressed a kiss to the young boy's cheek.

He gasped and blushed darkly before a large grin spread across his face and he turned and darted out the door, shutting it behind him. Hermione shook her head and filled a wooden cup with some water before placing the wildflowers in the makeshift vase. Standing back, she smiled to herself and then turned back to her patient, no matter how small an injury, he was still her patient.

"I believe you have just made that boy's day," Arthur spoke.

"I do my best to ensure the happiness of every child in this village, whether they have a mother or not, sadly, Tobyn doesn't. She died a year ago, so when I arrived he took a shining to me."

Arthur's interest was piqued. "You were not born in Ealdor?" He questioned, would his suspicions be confirmed?

"No, I have only been here a year myself. My arrival here was unexpected for both myself and the villagers, yet they were incredibly kind and allowed me to stay. In return, I do what I can to ensure their safety, even if that means that I sacrifice my own."

So, she _wasn't_ a poor villager. Who was she? Where did she hail from?

The handsome young man before her watched her intensely and she turned her eyes away from him, grabbing a cloth and dampening it with cold water and she stepped closer to him.

"This may sting a little," she warned and he nodded. "Would you mind terribly if I touched you?"

"No, I wouldn't," he replied, his eyes locked with hers. He _really_ wouldn't, he _wanted_ her to touch him.

Reaching up, she gently cupped his chin with her fingers and tilted his head, her eyes scanning his cheek and seeing that the wound was a little deeper than she'd thought but she could still heal it. She lifted the cloth and cleaned away the blood first before giving him a look of warning and then gently swiping it over the cut. He winced but otherwise made no move to stop her.

"If you don't mind my asking, are you married?"

Hermione's eyes fluttered to his, giving him a curious look and then moving back to her task. "No, I am not married."

"Courting?"

"No, I am not being courted either."

Arthur frowned. "You don't have any suitors?" The Prince asked, his eyes trailing her soft, beautiful features and finding it hard to believe she didn't have a man wishing for her hand in marriage, especially after learning she was a physician _and_ a teacher. He had seen how the children of the village had responded to her and she was brave and willing to sacrifice her life for another. How did she not have a suitor?

"No, the men in this village are either too old, too young, are already married or are widowed. But I don't mind much," she answered. "I don't take well to being ordered about, my father always used to say that the man who married me would have to be a Saint to be able to handle my stubbornness and temper," she said, a fondness to her tone. "I wish to accomplish more in my life before I marry and am expected to have children. My work with the people of this village is important to me and to them, and I know there are others in this world who need help, too. I wish to help as many people as I possibly can."

"I believe you are the kindest woman I have ever been in the presence of," he replied, surprised by her words. Had he ever met such a woman who cared for others more than herself? Who cared for the lives of others more than her own? Who was determined to help as many people as she possibly could?

She gave him a small smile. "If you have the means and ability to help someone in need, then you should. A single kind act can go a long way, and if everyone performed a single act of kindness a day, I believe the world would be a better place for everyone. And now, if you don't mind, I'd like to ask you a question."

"Of course," he nodded briefly.

She sent him an annoyed glance and repositioned his head with her hand that was still gently grasping his chin, her fingers soft and warm. He was quite amused with her response and briefly considered doing it again to see how she'd react.

"What is your name?"

He blinked slowly, had he not already introduced himself? He realised he hadn't. His father would kill him for his lack of manners.

"I am Arthur, Prince of Camelot."

Hermione froze, the cloth dropping from her fingers and landing on the floor. King-Prince Arthur! Prince Arthur of Camelot had just saved her life! She was tending to and conversing with _the_ Prince Arthur. Never in her life did she think she'd meet Prince Arthur.

Her eyes moved to his, seeing him watching her worriedly at her reaction. She couldn't help staring. The accounts of Arthur had always stated his bravery and kindness, and although he was described to have been handsome, she thought the books hadn't done him justice.

Godric! This was Prince Arthur she was tending to. Her eyes darted down to his hands resting on his thighs and she spotted there was no ring on his ring finger. He wasn't yet married.

"Hermione?" He questioned.

"Sorry," she muttered, bending to pick up the cloth to prevent anyone slipping on it and she retrieved a clean one, dipping it into the bucket of water and returning to her previous task. "I confess, I am not accustomed to treating patients such as yourself, and now, I feel nervous."

"There is no need to feel as such, you are doing a wonderful job," he praised. Hermione almost blushed. Almost. "The court physician at Camelot would approve and I'm not afraid to admit your bedside manner is certainly better."

She laughed lightly. "Thank you, how would you prefer I refer to you? Your Highness, Your Grace, Prince..."

"Arthur," he interrupted. "Just Arthur."

Once she was done, she reached for the healing salve and with soft fingers, she placed the salve over his cut. He winced once more but he soon relaxed as the stinging was replaced by a cool, tingling sensation. She stepped back and wiped her hands on the cloth.

"Well then, just Arthur," she started and he snorted at her in amusement. "I believe you are all done here. I give you permission to leave."

" _Permission_?" He asked, his bright blue orbs sparkling and his eyes crinkling.

God, was he handsome!

"Yes, when on this table, you are my patient and I shan't let you leave unless I am positive you are well enough to make it out of the door," she explained. His mouth twitched in amusement. "I am quite the mother hen, too."

"I've noticed," he replied, his mouth pulling into a smile, but it was soon wiped off his face when she removed her cloak.

He wasn't staring at her odd choice of clothing, but rather, her throat and seeing the red hand-shaped marks that had yet to fade. His eyes darted to her pretty face, landing on the cut on her cheek and the split in her lip. If he hadn't planned on killing Kanan before, he certainly was now. How could a man hurt such a kind creature as the woman before him?

"It's your turn," he said, standing from the table until he towered over her.

"I'm sorry?" She questioned confused.

He reached up, gesturing to his cheek the way she'd done earlier and her eyes widened in realisation.

"Oh, I had forgotten. It's but a scratch, I shall tend to it later."

"Hermione, a scratch may still cause infection," he informed her and she scowled at him.

"I don't appreciate my words being used against me, but I admit, that was nicely done. I shall tend to it now, you should head out and speak to the others."

"I will, _after_ you've been seen to," he responded, picking up the cloth and dunking it into the water bucket, folding it until he found an area free of his own blood and he held his hand out, hovering.

She nodded, perching herself on the table and holding her breath when his hand gently grasped her chin and tilted her head the way she'd done to him. He gently swiped at her cheekbone, paying close attention to his task and she winced the slightest bit, him giving her a worried look but she ignored it.

He dipped his fingers into the salve and slathered it on her cheek, wiping his hands once he was done. His hand grasped her chin once more and turned her to face him, a frown pulling at his brow as he stared at her split lip.

"I will clean it but otherwise can do nothing else due to the area. If I apply the healing paste, I might accidentally ingest it and it may be poisonous."

"I'm going to kill him," he spoke softly, so softly she barely heard him.

"I am not one to agree with killing in cold blood, but I do believe in self-defence and I understand that sometimes, the only option _is_ to kill. If you feel that killing Kanan is the only way to protect Ealdor and its people, then I shall support you. You have my trust and belief."

"Belief?" He questioned quietly. "You barely know me."

"That's not entirely true. I'm a remarkably good judge of character, yet I know more about you than you realise," she said, a secret smile pulling at her mouth. "I believe that one day, you shall be a wonderful King to Camelot. You travelled from the comfort and safety of your Kingdom to help Ealdor, which lies in the Kingdom of another and who refuses to give help to its people. You were and are willing to sacrifice your life for those you have never met. You saved my life. You have a kind heart, Arthur, and I believe you will do what is best for Ealdor and when the time for it should come, Camelot, too," she said softly, her gaze locked with his.

"I..."

The door to her home suddenly burst open, slamming against the wall and Arthur spun around while Hermione's eyes landed on the intruder.

"William!" Hermione spoke in outrage, glaring angrily at the baker. "How dare you just barge in here? Do I barge into your home?"

His eyes darted between her and Prince Arthur who stood beside her, his hand automatically having reached to rest on the hilt of his sword and ready to draw it should he need to, whilst he watched William with a cautious gaze.

"Yes, all the time," he answered, some of his anger fading and being replaced with amusement.

"Yes, well," Hermione shifted on the table. "You don't have patients to tend to and I know you enjoy my company, I'm the only thing keeping you from falling asleep whilst baking."

He shook his head, his eyes darting to Arthur and then to her, spying her injuries and the anger was back. "What were you thinking? Hubert told me what you did! You could've been killed, Hermione. _Killed_."

"I was well aware of the consequences of my actions, William. I would rather it be my life than Tobyn's. I would rather it be me than Hubert or Elisa. I am not like the others, of which you very well know," she said, giving him a pointed look. "I do not back down to bullies. Now, if you would kindly leave, I will be sure to visit with you as soon as I am done here."

"Gods, Woman! You're the most infuriating being in the entire world!" He growled, storming out of the door.

"Shut the door behind you!" Hermione called. "Were you born in a barn?"

William strode back into the hut, grabbed the edge of the door and glared at her.

"You know I was," he glared, slamming the door shut and storming off.

"I know," she called after him. "But you have to admit, William, it was funny!"

Hermione turned to look at Arthur, seeing his perplexed expression and she laughed lightly, drawing his gaze.

"I am sorry about him, he's got a bit of a temper on him," she said. "And I can't help but antagonise him, it is rather fun."

"You said you're not being courted and you have no suitors," he spoke.

"I'm not and I don't, William is a friend, a _very_ good friend, more like my brother really and he's very protective of me."

"I can understand his need to be so," he replied, his eyes watching her intensely.

She cleared her throat. "Well, Arthur, if you should find yourself needing anything, I shall either be here or wandering the village, in any case, I won't have gone far. If I can help you in any way, I will. You better get yourself out there, these people need your help."

He watched her for a moment longer before nodding, his mouth pulling into a smile. He gave her the slightest bow –she didn't blush! She didn't!- and then turned and left out of the door.

"Merlin!" She heard him shout as the door closed behind him.

Hermione froze. Merlin? _The_ Merlin? He was here! Wait, the second man she'd caught a glimpse of...He was Merlin.

Hermione almost fell off the table.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 7

Hermione couldn't help herself; she'd always been nosy, a trait she'd gotten from her mother who was always one to sneak a peek out the window or door whenever there was an argument or drunken fight on the street.

As such, she couldn't stop herself from knocking on the baker's door and pushing it open, stepping inside before she'd been given permission to do so. She raised an eyebrow to the sight of William arguing with another man as they stood opposite each other with a table in-between them.

From her position leaning against the door frame, her arms folded over her chest, she took in the features of the second man. He had dark hair, a shade between brown and black and skin that wasn't quite pale but not quite tanned either. He stood tall, towering over William and she thought that he was actually taller than Prince Arthur, too. From her positioning, she could make out his dark blue eyes and she noticed that his ears were a little too big for his head. There was something about him, she thought. He wasn't handsome like Prince Arthur, more...Goofy, but in a cute, adorable way, much like Neville had been even before he came into himself and grew more confident. Remembering him on the battlefield, one thing was certain, puberty had been kind to the clumsy wizard.

She realised the arguing had stopped and she shook her head, looking back to the two men. William looked to be angry with the man but amused at her presence and current lounging position of leaning against the door frame, whilst the man, he was staring at her with slightly wide and curious eyes.

"I didn't barge in," she said, holding her hands up in surrender and then crossing her arms once more. "I knocked, but given the noise coming from inside here, I'm not surprised you didn't hear me. Are you trying to wake the dead?"

William's mouth twitched. "Only if it's your Grandmother."

"Hmmm, best not, as much as I loved her, she was terrifying," she shivered and he snorted at her. "Well, I was heading to see Elisa, I promised another reading lesson and it's best I keep the children distracted for the time being. But you know me, I can't help myself when there's arguing."

"You are rather nosy," he nodded in agreement.

"Blame my mother," she responded, her eyes darting to the second man who looked both amused and confused by their conversation.

William, seeing their gazes being locked, found himself raising a curious eyebrow as his eyes darted between the two.

"Hermione, this is my friend, Merlin..."

Hermione froze. If Prince Arthur was here then...He was _the_ Merlin. God give her the strength to get through the day without passing out. She was stood in the same room as the most powerful sorcerer to have ever existed. She couldn't believe it. How much more could her heart take before she keeled over and died?

Looking at him, Hermione realised that he was quite young, probably around her age. Merlin hadn't had the time to expand and learn, which meant even if she had considered going to him for help and she'd been able to find him, she was sure he'd have no idea how to help her. She'd given up the hope of going home a long time ago.

"...Hunith's son. Merlin, this is Hermione..."

Hermione shook her head, Godric, as if, Hunith's Merlin was _the_ Merlin. She felt like fainting but thought better of it, not wanting to frighten William anymore than she already had that day.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Merlin," Hermione smiled, truly meaning her words, after all, how many witches could say they'd met Merlin? "Both William and your mother have spoken of you fondly."

He blinked in surprise. "You know my mother?"

"Yes, she's a lovely woman. She showed me kindness and offered help when I had nothing to give in return. But now she sometimes helps me with my duties."

"She's the village's physician," William piped up, looking to Merlin amused when a look of surprise crossed his face. "She's quite brilliant, too. She teaches the children to read and write."

"I only do what I can to help them and give them happier lives," Hermione interrupted.

"I'm sorry, but I don't remember you..." Merlin trailed off.

Hermione smiled. "I don't believe you would. I arrived in Ealdor after you left; I have been here a year now. Now, if you don't mind my asking, what are you arguing about?"

William's face darkened and he glared at Merlin. Hermione sighed, knowing instantly.

"William, please be kind and try not to fight and argue. I believe the Prince is here to help the village. I have spoken with him and I can see he has a kind heart."

"Hermione..."

"You know I'm an excellent judge of character," she interrupted his tirade before it could begin. "I truly believe he is what this village needs. If it weren't for him, Kanan would still be here and I would be dead."

"You should've stayed out of it."

"You know that is something I cannot do, William," she said softly. "Elisa was almost trampled by a rider and their horse, and Tobyn was threatened and held hostage. I don't regret my actions and I would do it again in a heartbeat. I understand how hard this is for you, but I need you to put that aside. This is not about you but the village and the children. We need to do what is best to ensure their safety."

"He just made Kanan angry, he'll be back to kill us all," William argued.

"I've known men like Kanan and they don't stop hurting others unless they are forcibly stopped. Kanan would've continued to terrorise Ealdor regardless of what transpired this day. It is time we stopped cowering and fought back."

"We'll die!"

"Perhaps, but I would rather die fighting for what I believe in, than die a coward," she responded.

Her eyes blazed in a way that reminded him that she'd been through a war and tragedy, she'd faced this before and wasn't afraid. William wondered if she ever feared anything.

"Don't fight with the Prince, William. We need him and such fighting will only cause distraction and we don't have much time as it is. We all need to put our differences aside and work together for the survival of the village. Now, if you'll excuse me, I best be heading off to Elisa, I wouldn't want the little one searching the village for me and getting lost. Just remember what I said before you make a decision. It was a pleasure meeting you Merlin," she smiled at the sorcerer before turning and leaving out the door, closing it behind her.

Merlin blinked slowly, staring at the place she'd once stood. "What just happened?"

William ran a hand through his hair. "She tried to knock some sense into me."

"And has she?" Merlin asked curiously.

"No, I love her, but I just...Can't."

Something inside the young sorcerer twisted painfully and he didn't know why.

"You...You love her? Are you courting?"

William looked to him, his gaze cautious. "No, we're not. And, yes, I love her. It's my fault we're not together. I knew she cared for me, more than she did the others and I cared for her, too, but I didn't believe myself good enough for her and I waited too long. Her feelings for me became that of a friend and I resigned myself to the fate. Now, I see her as a sister and friend, someone I know I can trust with my life and secrets."

Merlin nodded slowly, unable to explain the sense of relief that settled within.

"She's right about Arthur..."

And another argument ensured.

~000~000~000~

A knock on the door had Hermione moving away from her workbench, picking up a cloth and wiping her hands and crossing the room to the door. Pulling it open, she blinked when she saw that stood towering before her was Merlin.

"Merlin?" She questioned, giving her head a light shake and a smile pulling at her mouth. "How can I help you?"

"Erm...Arthur sent me here," he said, lifting his left arm up and she looked down at it, seeing the blood that had soaked through the sleeve.

"Goodness," she shook her head. "We best get you seen to, come in and hop up on the table for me, I'll be right with you," she said, gesturing to the table with a tilt of her head.

Merlin smiled as he stepped into the hut, his eyes searching his surroundings as he crossed to the table and perched on the edge of it. She was stood before him moments later, a bucket of water and some cloth being carried in her hands and she set them down on the table beside him.

"Let's take a look shall we?" She smiled, holding her hand out expectantly and he raised his injured arm, placing it in her hold.

She lowered her head and bending slightly at the waist, she brought her other hand to the sleeve, carefully seeing if the fabric was stuck to the wound. Thankfully it wasn't so she pulled his sleeve out of the way, her eyes latching onto the open wound only slightly bigger than William's had been that morning.

"It's any easy fix," she assured him, reaching for the cloth, wetting it and making a start on cleaning the wound. "How did this happen?"

"Sword," he answered.

She let out a sigh. "I expect I shall be seeing many injuries over the coming days and I'll be kept rather busy. But I would rather the people learning to defend themselves over their continued suffering."

"Arthur told me what you did."

"I'm sorry?" She questioned, briefly looking to his dark blue eyes. She could admit they were beautiful.

"You risked your life to save the children and defend the village."

"Well, when I see something that is wrong, I find it hard to stand back and allow it to happen, and as such, I find myself in some rather precarious situations."

"You've made an impression on Arthur. It's not often I see him respond to a woman the way he has you."

She blinked slowly. Oh God no! She hoped that didn't mean what she thought it did. Arthur was to someday marry Guinevere; he couldn't be falling for her. Godric! She shouldn't have been so nice to him but it wasn't in her nature to treat people badly.

"I don't believe I've done anything to receive such a response. I merely patched him up, which only seemed right as he saved my life," she replied. "If you don't mind my asking, how do you know Arthur?"

"I'm his manservant."

Hermione stilled in her movements. The great and powerful Merlin was a manservant! What was the world coming to? But she supposed, if Merlin was to be King Arthur's most trusted advisor, he'd have to start from the bottom and earn his trust, and it would allow the sorcerer to remain close to the Prince and protect him.

"And how does he treat you?"

"Arthur is..." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "Arrogant, bossy, sometimes rude..."

Hermione blinked in surprise. He was? She hadn't witnessed those qualities in him, but then she didn't spend every day watching and caring for him like Merlin did.

"But he is a good man and a good friend."

"I'm glad to hear that," she said sincerely, giving him a brief smile when he winced as she tended to the wound itself. "A man I once knew used to say, if you want to know what a man is like, look at how he treats his inferiors and not his equals. It will tell you of kindness and compassion or selfishness and cruelness."

"He's a wise man," Merlin commented.

"Yes, he was," she said, him picking up on the past tense term she'd used. "Well, wise or insane, a little of both actually," she smiled and he laughed. "But sometimes it is hard to distinguish between the two."

She set the cloth aside and knowing healing paste wouldn't work on such a wound, she left his side to retrieve the sutures, tweezers and needle and then returned to his side.

"I'm not going to lie, this is going to be rather uncomfortable," she warned him. "But the wound should heal rather quickly so long as you don't rip it open. Given the size, it shouldn't take me too long to have it patched up," she spoke as she disinfected with needle and tweezers with a splash of alcohol and she threaded the needle. "So, you let me know when you're ready and I'll begin."

"Now," he said, seeming to want to get it over with as he didn't even take a moment to brace himself.

Stepping closer to him, she brushed her hair out of her face and bent over the wound, making a start on the stitches. He hissed as she threaded the first suture and then clamped his mouth shut.

She realised that being so close to him, she could feel the magical power radiating off him. His magic, it was almost as if it was reaching out to hers, brushing against her softly like a summer's breeze. It was comforting, she admitted. Looking to him, he gave no reaction that he felt the same. She could usually tell when she was surrounded by magical folk or muggles, so why couldn't Merlin feel she was a witch? Surely he'd say something if he knew.

"How is William?" She asked, wishing to distract him.

"Angry," he answered.

"I'm not surprised," she nodded. "I understand his dislike for royalty given the circumstances, I only wish he could see that this is what is best for the village. My defending Arthur may affect our friendship but I only did what I thought was right. I know he will calm down eventually and we shall deal with things once that happens."

"How did you become friends?" Merlin asked curiously.

"He found me," she answered and feeling his eyes on her, she looked to him. "I was injured in the woods and he found me and carried me to the village. Your mother healed me the best she could and once I woke I had nowhere to go, so I stayed, and here we are a year later. William was my first friend."

"What happened to you?"

"My Kingdom was in times of war and I was forced to leave. Our enemies chased me through kingdoms and realms until they caught up with me," she answered, her voice sad but calm.

Merlin's insides twisted painfully at the thought of her being harmed. He didn't know why, he'd only met her, but she felt familiar to him somehow. He watched her face as she focused on his arm, her pretty features relaxed and with him being so close to her he could count the freckles on her little nose. She was beautiful, it was the first thought that had come to mind when he'd noticed her standing in Will's doorway, lounging against the door frame lazily and watching them amused. He'd known she'd been in a world of her own as she seemed to snap back to attention when the arguing had stopped.

He watched as she worked carefully but efficiently, threading the needle through his skin and the wound being pulled closed in such a way he'd never seen before. At least, he'd never seen Gaius use such a method of treatment and he made a mental note to bring it to the attention of the older man, knowing he would appreciate it. It was certainly less gruesome and painful than cauterising the wound.

He could see why Will had fallen for her, why Arthur was so taken with her...Well, maybe not _taken_ but most certainly interested. When he'd been helping the Prince to gather the villagers and make a start on training, he'd seen the Prince watching the pretty young woman when she crossed the field and headed into a hut with a large steaming pot in her hands. He'd seen the way his eyes would flicker between the hut and the villagers, waiting for her to exit and move to another hut. She'd visited ten and Arthur had watched her each time.

Though Arthur did appreciate the beauty in women, Merlin knew first hand that Arthur wanted a woman that had more to her than her appearance. In the time Merlin had been at Camelot and Arthur's manservant, he'd born witness to the number of noblewomen and Princesses that had travelled far and wide with the wish of marrying Arthur. No matter of their beauty or the alliances it would bring Camelot, Arthur had taken one look at them and told King Uther he would _not_ marry them.

Merlin could understand Arthur's predicament. He wasn't just in need of a wife, but a Queen. He wanted a woman he could trust, a woman he knew would care for Camelot and its people with the same intensity he did.

From the little information he'd gathered on Hermione from Arthur, Will and some of the villagers, he'd come to understand that Arthur was looking for someone like Hermione. Not only beautiful, but kind, caring and intelligent. She had risked her life to save the children of the village, she was both a physician and an educator and no one in the village had a bad word to say against her, they showered her with praises. But unfortunately for Arthur, his father, King Uther, would never allow him to marry someone of Hermione's status, no matter how kind and intelligent she was and no matter how much Arthur would wish it so.

But there was something about the pretty young woman. He wasn't sure what and he couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he _knew_ he'd be seeing her again once they left Ealdor. He had a feeling that like himself and Arthur, Hermione had a destiny of her own and if it brought her to Camelot, he wouldn't complain and he was sure Arthur wouldn't either.

"All done," she interrupted his musings and stepped back from him.

He looked down at his arm, surprised to see the only sign of the injury was a neat column of stitching, similar to what would be seen on clothing. He ran his fingers over it, feeling the raised skin and it stung a little but it was nothing he couldn't handle.

"That's incredible," he commented.

"Thank you," she replied. "It took me a while to perfect it but it is very useful, especially with the children when they injure themselves. They'd much prefer this method than cauterisation. Just be sure to be careful and try to keep the area dry for forty-eight hours. With a wound such as yours, the stitching should be removed in five days. Seeing as you may not be here that long, I will explain how to do it before you leave. Okay?"

"Understood," he nodded, smiling at her.

"Excellent, now, you're free to leave. Do be careful, I'd hate to make a habit out of this."

Chuckling, he stood from the table and exited out the door, stopping to glance back over his shoulder and seeing her humming to herself as she cleaned the table and then moved over to a workbench, crushing and adding ingredients into a pot with such practised ease, she made Gaius look like a novice.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 8

“Enter,” Hermione called, being buried in her storage room by the moss and firewood William had collected for her.

He’d dropped it off earlier in the evening and left without saying a word. Hermione knew it would pass, he much reminded her of Harry in that regard. Hearing the door opening and closing and the footsteps that followed, Hermione made sure the door to the storage room was closed before flicking her wrist, the moss and firewood being sorted into nicely stacked piles.

She grabbed the jar of healing paste she needed and being satisfied, she stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her, turning to see that not only was seven-year-old Brom right where she’d left him waiting for her, but Prince Arthur stood in the room, too, leaning against her remedies cabinet with his arms crossed over his chest casually.

She blinked in surprise and forced down a blush when she noticed he’d changed out of his chainmail and armour and now only wore a partially buttoned white shirt and black breeches tucked into his leather boots. Similarly, she noted him taking in her own clothing choice despite not having changed since the last time he’d seen her. If he thought she was odd, he didn’t show it.

“Prince Arthur?” She questioned, crossing over to Brom and giving him a reassuring smile when he looked at the healing paste nervously.

“Just Arthur,” he corrected.

“I am sorry, I’ve been kept quite busy today,” she said, speaking of the fact she’d dealt with quite a few cuts, scrapes and lacerations that the villagers had acquired. “I’ll be with you in a moment, I just need to finish attending to Brom.”

She turned her eyes from the handsome Prince and back to the young boy, scooping some of the healing paste on to her fingers and rubbing it into both his knees and then his palms.

“You must be careful, Brom,” Hermione scolded lightly. “Now, off you go, I’m sure it is well past your bedtime and your mother will want to tuck you in before retiring for the night herself.”

“Thanks, Hermione,” he said, hopping down from the table with Hermione’s help and he rushed out of the door, leaving Hermione and Arthur alone.

Hermione cleaned her hands on the cloth and turned to face him. “So, Arthur, what can I help you with?”

He pushed himself away from the cabinet and approached her, stopping on the opposite side of the table.

“I apologise for visiting at such a late hour,” he started and paused, apparently deciding his next words but not being sure how to say them.

Hermione smiled. “Have you eaten yet?”

“I’m sorry?” He questioned.

“Have you eaten?” She repeated. “I know it has been a long and trying day and having food in the stomach is always a help. Take a seat,” she gestured to the small table in the kitchen area.

Tilting his head slightly, he nodded once and silently crossed over to the small wooden table, taking a stool on one side. He watched as she pottered about, quickly heating up whatever was in the pot and she fixed some tea, placing the steaming wooden cup and matching bowl before him along with a spoon and a small bread roll.

“I am sorry I cannot offer you more, we’ve been short of supplies as of late and Kanan attacking and taking our food and grains most certainly doesn’t help.”

He looked down at the offerings, noting the portion size hardly compared to what he’d get back at Camelot, but he knew of the village’s circumstances. So for her to barely have any resources and to offer to share them with him, showed just how kind and selfless she was.

“Have you eaten yourself?” He asked, not wanting to take food that she had planned on eating for herself.

Looking down at the broth before him, he realised it was likely what she’d be taking to the huts that had children and families. Each time she existed a hut, it was clear to him the load of the large pot lightened each time until she was no longer struggling to carry the heavyweight. She’d been sharing her food with half the village.

Looking to her, he looked past the beautiful, soft features of her face and frowned slightly, seeing that although she was far from being malnourished and starving, her eyes were a little sunken and her cheekbones did stand out more than they should. How hadn’t he noticed it before? He also spied the cut on her cheek and it looked a lot better than it had earlier, as did her lip.

“I have eaten,” she nodded. “As our resources are limited, we eat what we need to sustain us and nothing more. I’m not accustomed to large portions of food and haven’t been for a couple of years, if I’m being honest. As such, I eat less than the others and whatever I can’t eat, I give to the children. I know their families struggle to feed them and I help in any way I can. Children require more food than adults as they are still growing and need to do so safely. So, please, eat. I have some more left if I find myself hungry during the night. The rabbits were caught last night and were prepared earlier in the day.”

Slowly, he nodded his head, dipping the spoon into the broth and bringing it to his mouth, watching for any tell that she was lying to him and that she was, in fact, hungry. He saw none as she smiled at him and lifted her tea to her mouth, taking a delicate sip, her eyes closing briefly and her mouth pulling into a smile.

He was surprised to find the broth had more flavour to it than he’d thought it would. It was by no means to the standards of the kitchens at the castle, but with the little resources she had that was understandable, and still, she’d made a tasty dinner. After a few more spoonfuls, he reached for the tea and took a cautious sip, surprised to find it tasted like nothing he’d ever had before, it seemed to warm him up from the inside, his muscles relaxing from a long day of training villagers and he all but slouched in his seat.

Hearing a chuckle, his eyes darted to the pretty woman opposite him, finding her smiling at him knowingly.

“What is this tea?” He questioned. “It’s wonderful.”

Hermione’s mouth twitched into a secret smile. She knew she wasn’t supposed to change the timeline but she hadn’t been able to resist a mug of chamomile tea. Rather, she’d put her own twist on it, using ingredients that shouldn’t be used, altering the taste and improving its purpose. Rather than the earthy apple taste one would associate with it, Hermione had added berries and something similar to cinnamon, an ingredient used in the making of fire whiskey and butterbeer, which is what gave the feeling of it warming you up from the inside out. It was certainly useful in the winter months.

“Thank you, it took me months to perfect it.”

“You _created_ this?” He asked surprised.

“I did,” she nodded, lifting the cup to her mouth and taking a sip. “So, Arthur, what is it you wish to speak to me about. Anything you say to me is confidential and I shan’t share it with anyone else without your expressed permission.”

He watched her for a moment before deciding to trust her with his thoughts.

“I’m worried,” he admitted nervously.

It wasn’t like him to admit his concerns aloud, especially when there were others present, but he had the feeling that he could talk to her and she’d listen without interrupting, she’d let him say what he had to without becoming angry or upset. She had a calm nature, being around her was like a balm that soothed his worries and concerns.

“I’m listening,” she said, putting down her tea but keeping her hands folded around it for warmth and she looked directly at him, giving him her full attention.

“I fear that no matter if we had weeks to prepare, the villagers will not be ready to fight and defend their land and homes. We have a matter of days before we are expecting Kanan to return and he will bring more men than previously. I fear that no matter what I do or how long and hard I train them, it will all be for nought and we will fail,” he confessed, looking down into the hot liquid of the tea in his cup.

“Is that all?” She questioned and he nodded. “Very well, you are right to have fears and concerns, Arthur,” she started softly and he looked up to her in surprise, having expected her to tell him otherwise. “I won’t lie to you, I’m worried, too. I know you are working hard to teach these people all you can in the little time you have, but you have to be mindful that these people are _not_ Knights. They are farmers and bakers and fishermen. They have never held a sword in their lives and I know that is not your fault, I know you only wish to arm them the best you can, but that’s not possible. You can’t teach them to fight in a matter of days.”

“Then what do I do?” He asked, sounding tired even to his own ears. When was the last time he’d had a decent night’s sleep?

“They won’t be able to fight as well as you, so we look at this from another viewpoint,” she replied and he tilted his head curiously. “Not offence but defence. Work to their strengths. The villagers know this land better than anyone, they will know where we can strategically place traps to either slow Kanan down or incapacitate his men. If we are able to sneak into his camp and steal his supplies, that will not only give the villagers what they lost, but hungry and angry men are hard to control. And it is easy enough to create explosions of which can be thrown in the direction of Kanan and his men. In fact, I have everything we would need right here.”

He blinked in surprise before a smile spread across his face.

“You have a brilliant mind, Hermione,” Arthur commented, finding himself feeling rather proud of her ideas.

“Thank you, you’re not the first to tell me that. Is William giving you any trouble?”

“He doesn’t like me,” he nodded, returning to his broth.

“Please don’t take it personally, Arthur. It’s not you but rather what you are, _royalty_. He has his reasons and I’m not going to betray his trust, but I assure you, he’s not a bad person. Truly, he isn’t. He has a temper and sometimes he sees the world in black and white, there is no in-between for him. I had a discussion with him earlier in the day but I see it was for nought,” she sighed, pushing her wild hair over her shoulder and his mouth twitched when she let out a puff of air to blow a fallen strand out of her face. “Not to worry, next time I shall warn him that if he does not reign in his emotions, he’ll feel my foot up his backside even in death.”

A startled laugh left him, having not expected such a threat to come from the young woman, or _any_ woman at all. Though he admitted it was a good one and he’d be using it in the future, likely in regard to his idiot manservant, Merlin.

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking sheepish and remembering that he _was_ still a Prince. “I grew up surrounded by boys and I suppose I’ve picked up some of their bad habits.”

“Do you have brothers?” He asked curiously, wondering if he could learn more about her past and possible status.

She was definitely _not_ from a poor village, of that he was sure, and she was too well-spoken and educated to have been a servant or a slave. Did she come from nobility? A part of him, deep down inside, was hoping that she did.

“Yes and no,” she responded, sipping at her tea. “I was an only child but a good friend of mine had five older brothers and one younger sister, so they were more like my siblings, too, given how much time we spent together. Myself, Ronald and our other best friend, Harry, were inseparable and we had been since we were children. His parents were lovely people and always made sure Harry and I felt as though we were part of the family. For Harry it was important as he never knew his parents; they were killed when he was a baby. Now, he’s grown up and I imagine taking over the duties of House Potter.”

House Potter? That sounded as though he had a noble title.

“Is he of nobility?” He asked slowly.

“Yes, a Lord. As are Ronald’s parents, Lord and Lady Weasley.”

Arthur did his best to call forth the names but he honestly couldn’t remember ever hearing of them, so they must be nobility in Hermione’s previous Kingdom. Given he knew the majority of the noble families in the surrounding Kingdoms of Camelot, Hermione’s Kingdom was likely a distance away.

“And you?”

“Me?” She questioned.

“Are you of noble blood?”

She smiled at him. “I think you should retire for the evening, Arthur. We don’t know when Kanan will attack and we all need to be well-rested when he does.”

His brow furrowed, why did she avoid the question? A simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ would’ve sufficed.

“Do you have accommodations for the night?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“Excellent, then I shall see you in the morning. Goodnight, Arthur.”

That was his cue to leave.

“Goodnight, Hermione,” he responded, standing from his stool and Hermione followed after him, showing him out.

As he walked away, he peered over his shoulder and Hermione gave him a small smile before she shut the door.

~000~000~000~

It was around midday when Arthur next saw Hermione.

After the villagers rose early and gathered, Arthur had explained the new plan of action and he wasn’t that surprised when the villagers had seemed impressed by it. They’d immediately set to work, some making a start on the traps, others scouting for the perfect locations to set the traps and the rest continuing with their fight training with whatever weapons they could find, mainly pitchforks and brooms that had the ends broken off and sharpened into pikes.

He’d caught sight of her from the corner of his eye and like the previous day, she was carrying a large pot in her hands and he noticed this one was a little larger than the other had been and she was clearly struggling with the weight. Without thought, he left the training villagers without explanation and jogged towards her, falling into step beside her. She startled slightly but otherwise gave him a smile.

“Hello, Arthur,” she greeted. “And how has your morning been?”

“Well, thank you, and yours?”

“Busy,” she replied, letting out a huff and blowing a strand of hair out of her face.

“Let me get that for you,” he said, reaching for the handle on the pot and taking it from her even as she protested.

He was surprised by how heavy it actually was; feeling the strain on his muscles and he almost dropped it in surprise. How had she even managed to lift it, let alone carry it from her home?

“Where to first?” He questioned.

She gave him a none too pleased look but otherwise led him to the first hut. He took it as a win. They visited several of the villager’s homes, Hermione ladling a decent amount of broth into the smaller pots they held out to her and when she informed him they were done, she headed for the group of training men and women, pulling out a selection of cups, bowls and spoons from a satchel he hadn’t noticed her carrying until now. Each of the men and women came forward, accepting the cups and bowls gratefully before taking a break and eating lunch.

“Thank you for your help, Arthur,” Hermione said. “I admit it didn’t take quite as much time as it did yesterday thanks to your aid.”

“You’re welcome,” he smiled, accepting the bowl and spoon she held out to him in offering.

“Well, I’ll leave you to your lunch. I’ve a few things to finish before I can make a start on those handheld fire explosions,” she smiled.

She turned and made to leave but found herself stopping when she heard two female voices she didn’t recognise.

“Is this her, Arthur?”

Hermione slowly turned around, seeing the annoyed looked Arthur was currently sending one woman whilst the other looked amused.

The first woman had beautiful pale skin, dark green eyes and long, dark brown hair that had been pulled back from her face in an intricate braid. She was smaller than Hermione but only slightly and she held herself tall and regally. The second woman had dark skin and her hair pulled back from her face and tied in a knot at the back of her head. Her eyes were a dark brown, Hermione spied a little mole by the right side of her nose and she was the smallest of the group, she’d put her around five-foot-three. Both women were beautiful in their own right, one striking and regal, the other soft and unknowing.

“Excuse me?” Hermione questioned politely.

Arthur grumbled beneath his breath but judging by the looks he was sending the women she understood it was them it was aimed at and not her.

“Hermione, this is Morgana and Guinevere...”

Hermione froze, her breath leaving her. She was stood in the presence of the darkest sorceress to have existed and the future Queen of Camelot, Arthur’s soon to be wife.

Her eyes darted between them carefully. Morgana, if she was travelling with Merlin and Prince Arthur and he wasn’t yet married, she knew it was likely Morgana hadn’t yet turned to the dark side. As for Gwen, Hermione knew that Arthur married young and after his father died, and she didn’t think it would be much longer before that happened.

But observing the two, Hermione saw no signs of such a romance between them. In fact, there was nothing at all. Not a single spark or look shared between them. They seemed comfortable in one another’s presence, but that was all. Hermione thought that odd, knowing their relationship was written as being complicated but strong and loving. If he was to marry soon, why were there no signs of a relationship between them? And why was he so interested in her if his future wife was standing right beside him? And why did Gwen smile at her without a single trace of jealousy?

“Morgana, Guinevere, this is Hermione,” Arthur introduced.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Guinevere, Lady Morgana,” Hermione smiled as genuinely as she could.

“I assure you, Hermione, the pleasure is all ours,” Morgana purred, sending an amused glance to Arthur who was gripping the bowl and spoon in his hands tightly and glaring in response. “Arthur has spoken of you fondly,” Morgana smiled and Hermione blinked when Gwen hid a laugh behind her hand, again, not a single trace of jealousy within her.

What in the name of Merlin was happening?

“I’m terribly sorry and I do not wish to be rude, but I must return home and complete my tasks. Should you require anything, both Arthur and Merlin know where to find me,” she smiled, waiting for them to acknowledge her with a nod and then she turned and walked away, hearing the whispered hisses Arthur exchanged with his unknown half-sister.

“Hermione, I shall accompany you,” Arthur called, quickly stepping up beside her and without the bowl of broth or the spoon. “I apologise for Morgana,” he said.

“It’s perfectly fine, Arthur. She wasn’t rude or insulting; I believe she only said such words to tease you.”

“Yes, she does that a lot,” he agreed.

“And that is what siblings do, I would know, I had eight non-biological ones, and trust me, they were huge pains in the backside. There were so many of us a meal would be a feast and a disagreement became a food fight.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I can imagine.”

“Do you have any siblings?” She asked, despite knowing he did. She was just curious to see if he knew about Morgana before or after she turned dark.

“No, I am an only child, too.”

“It is a lonely life, is it not?”

“It is,” he agreed. “I believe it is why I would like two children of my own, so they never have to experience such loneliness.”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, when I feel I am ready, I would like two or three myself, but certainly no more, I imagine they will be a handful and I saw how Lady Weasley was always exhausted, no matter of the fact that when I met her, her two eldest sons were already grown and had left to follow their own paths.”

“Which Kingdom do you hail from? I do not recognise the names of your nobles so I’m assuming it’s not a neighbouring Kingdom of Camelot.”

“My Kingdom is very far away, maybe a three month’s journey,” she answered, seeing his eyes widen briefly. “And I doubt you have heard of it, it was the Kingdom of Hogwarts.”

He frowned thoughtfully, thinking over on all of the history he’d been forced to learn as a child but he couldn’t recall a Kingdom with that name, nor could he remember seeing it on any of the maps in Camelot.

He made to respond when an ear-piercing scream shattered their little bubble.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 9

He found himself running across the village, following after Hermione. She was fast, _very_ fast. She reached the gathered crowd before he did and he halted at the sight of a man laying on his stomach and having been thrown into a cart. An arrow was stuck in his back and a note attached to it.

He reached out, tearing the parchment free and briefly being aware of Hermione fussing over the man. Arthur didn’t know why, he was dead, that was obvious. His eyes fell to the note that read,

_Make the most of this day, it will not last._

It was a warning; Arthur knew they would be there soon. 

“He’s alive!”

Arthur’s eyes snapped up in surprise. How was he alive?

“Someone carry him to my hut, quickly! And don’t remove the arrow!” Hermione ordered, soon bustling after the two villagers that were carrying the man, but Arthur reached out, his hand gently encircling her wrist and pulling her to a stop.

Her eyes were frantic, her face worried and she was itching to follow them, so he made sure to be quick.

“We don’t have much time. He was stationed as a lookout.”

Hermione took a breath, calming herself. “I’ll do what I can for Matthew and then make a start on those explosions for you. If there’s any sign of Kanan, have the children sent straight to my hut, they’ll be safe with me.”

He believed her. He didn’t know why, but he did. She wouldn’t let any harm come to them no matter the cost.

“I suggest any traps that have been made are put into place, we need to focus on securing the village. I shall see you soon but I better see to Matthew,” she said, giving him a small smile and he released her wrist, nodding, and then she was gone, darting after the two men who had reached her hut.

He turned around, seeing that he was surrounded by the majority of the villagers and they were all staring at him, some silently and others whispering.

“Kanan is coming, we don’t have much time. Prepare and arm any traps in the chosen locations, gather and fashion as many weapons as you can and gather the children, they shall be sent to Hermione for protection.”

~000~000~000~

“He’s not dead yet, William,” Hermione said, briefly sending her friend a glare as she focused her attention on stopping the bleeding.

William had barged into her home minutes before, pacing and ranting about the danger they were all in, about what had happened to Matthew and that it wouldn’t be the first or last death in the village.

“Grab me some cloth, quickly!” She ordered.

He continued his ranting but grabbed a cloth and handed it to her, continuing with his pacing as she applied pressure to the wound. She had no idea how Matthew was still alive. The arrow hadn’t pierced any of his internal organs but there was quite a bit of blood and she could feel his pulse weakening, if she didn’t stop the bleeding he’d die. It was at times like this she wished she could use Blood Replenishing Potions without the risk of her magic being discovered.

“...Come with me.”

“What?” Hermione shook her head, having blocked out his words as she focused her attention on the man bleeding out on her table.

“Come with me.”

He was leaving?

“Hermione, you’ll be safe if you leave with me.”

She shook her head. “You know I cannot do that, William. I won’t abandon the village. I’m to stay here and protect the children from harm. I will erect a series of magical barriers that will prevent Kanan and his men from finding us; they will be safe with me.”

“Hermione, please...”

“No, William,” she said, looking away from her blood-covered hands and pressing firmly down on the cloth. She needed another one! “I understand your need to leave, I truly do and I don’t fault you for it, but I cannot leave. If I do, there will be no one to heal the casualties or pick up the pieces once this is all over.”

“That’s if you survive,” he argued.

“We will,” Hermione assured him. “I have faith in Prince Arthur and I shall remind you that this is not my first battle.”

His face softened and he stopped in his pacing, turning to face her. “I suppose not,” he muttered. “Please, come with me,” he begged.

“I’m sorry, William,” she said softly.

The anger seemed to drop from him suddenly and he released a slow breath.

“Do you not have fear?”

“I fear many things, but death is not one of them. I have had many close calls in my time, so many I’m surprised I’m still alive. I won’t stop risking my life for the safety of others; it‘s not in my nature. I won’t allow others to suffer if I can help it, and right now, I can.”

William closed his eyes and sighed, before he closed the distance between them, coming up beside her and he leaned in close.

“Take care of yourself, don’t do anything stupid,” he muttered into her ear.

“Of course not, that’s your thing, not mine,” she replied, being frustrated that she’d ran out of cloth and instead she reached for the edge of her cloak, pressing that over the bleeding wound, too.

A chuckle left him and he shook his head. “You are too good for this world, Hermione,” he said quietly. “Goodbye,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple and stepping back from her, turning and walking out the door.

“Goodbye,” she whispered, watching him leave before turning her attention to Matthew. There was nothing for it, she’d have to cauterize the wound.

A knock on the door sounded.

“What now, William!” Hermione snapped in annoyance, looking up at the open door and her eyes widening when she saw that it wasn’t William, but the future Queen of Camelot, Gwen. “Oh, I'm terribly sorry, I thought you were someone else,” she said.

Gwen smiled, not seeming to take offence and an understanding look crossed her face.

“It’s fine, I’m sure you’re overwhelmed trying to help him,” she nodded to Matthew. “Most would have given up by now and left him to his fate.”

“I’m not most people,” Hermione responded, gathering more of her cloak and pressing it over the wound.

“I can see that,” Gwen replied. “Would you like some help?”

Hermione sighed. “Your help would be much appreciated,” Hermione nodded and Gwen quickly crossed the room, coming to stand beside Hermione, who removed her cloak entirely. “Keep pressure on the wound, we need to stop the bleeding, I’ll be back in a moment. Just don’t let go and press down as hard as you can,” she instructed.

Once Gwen had taken over, Hermione dashed into her storage room, closed the door behind her, conjured a bucket of water, grabbed some clean bandages and with a quick spell, she heated the blade of a dagger until it glowed orange. She quickly returned to Gwen and Matthew, having the future Queen step aside and instructing her to be ready with the water, as Hermione removed all the cloths and her cloak and without a second thought, pressed the blade of the dagger against the wound.

The only sound that came from Matthew was that of a pained groan, being too far out of it to otherwise react. When Hermione pulled the dagger back and dropped it to the ground, Gwen carefully tipped the water over the wound until the table and floor was soaked and there was barely any water left, and then Hermione soaked the bandages in the water and quickly added some burn salve and gently layered it over Matthew’s back, standing back and observing for any signs of shock or difficulty breathing. There was none.

“Merlin was right.”

“Excuse me?” Hermione questioned, her eyes darting to the woman opposite her.

“You’re a wonderful physician; I believe Gaius would be rather impressed with your talents. He may have let the man succumb to his injury, there is no point in delaying the evitable, I believe he would say.”

“Well, no one is dead unless I say they are,” Hermione responded, wiping at her forehead with the sleeve of her tunic, smudging blood across her skin. “If I know I can help someone, no matter their condition, then I will. If I can’t, then I don’t stop until I’m sure there’s no absolute way of saving them, at which, I make them as comfortable as possible and I don’t leave their side so they don’t pass alone,” Hermione responded.

She crossed over to her small bed, grabbed the pillow and returned to Matthew, lifting his head and placing the pillow beneath him. She then crouched down until she was at eye level and she brushed his hair gently away from his sweaty forehead. His eyes opened weakly and she smiled at him.

“Death will have to wait for you a little longer; you’re going to be just fine,” she said softly. “Get some rest, you’re going to need it,” she instructed. It seemed he’d been waiting for those words and as soon as she started humming, his eyes closed and he fell asleep.

“I can see why he likes you,” Gwen commented.

Hermione’s humming stopped and she looked up at Gwen questioningly.

“Arthur, I can see why he is so taken with you. You have made a big impression on the young Prince.”

Hermione froze before slowly rising to her feet and looking down at the water-soaked floor; she had nothing to clean up the mess with and she sighed, realising she’d have to sacrifice what little linens she had.

“I had no intentions of doing such a thing,” Hermione responded, moving to her bed and removing the bed sheet before returning to the table and crouching down, mopping up the bloody water from the floor.

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Gwen said, nodding. “And that is why you have done so.”

“I believe he is simply fascinated that I am a _woman_ physician.”

“I admit, that came as quite a surprise to the rest of us, too. But I am glad that you are showing men that women are capable of great feats, too. But, Arthur...I have seen the way he looks at you, I have seen the two of you conversing and Arthur is comfortable with you in a way I have never before seen with another woman.”

 _Oh, Merlin!_ She thought.

“And what of you and Arthur?” Hermione asked cautiously, curiously, wanting to see if she could figure out why they didn’t appear to have any form of relationship yet.

Gwen looked surprised. “Arthur and I are nothing but acquaintances. I am Lady Morgana’s handmaid and rarely interact with the Prince. In fact,” she paused, looking over her shoulder for any eavesdroppers. “I couldn’t stand him.”

Hermione blinked in surprise. Godric Gryffindor, what was going on?

“Before Merlin arrived in Camelot, Arthur was rude, arrogant, entitled, a bully....”

Hermione’s eyes widened. Prince Arthur, a bully? Really?

“Merlin stood up to him and he became something of a hero amongst the servants, but since being made Arthur’s manservant, I have noticed a change in him. He is still arrogant and sometimes rude, but he is less of a bully and more thoughtful of others.”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione shook her head, rising to her feet and grimacing as she held the bloody, soaked bed sheet in her hand and she put it in the bucket. She’d have to burn it. “I just can’t imagine the Prince being as you described him. He seemed perfectly kind and considerate during my interactions with him.”

“That being my point,” Gwen replied, “Arthur has seen many a Princess and noblewoman, all of them wishing for marriage, yet no matter their beauty or offerings, he has declined each one. No one is quite certain of what he is looking for, but I think he’s found it in you.”

She felt like fainting. _Again_! This was getting beyond a joke.

“I hardly doubt that; we have had but a few interactions and have only known one another all but a day.”

“I know,” Gwen nodded with an amused smile. “Which is why Lady Morgana is quite amused. There was an incident in which magic was used to ensnare Arthur’s heart as a plot of revenge, he became infatuated with the woman but the spell was soon broken. His behaviour now, although not as erratic or chaotic, is similar as to before.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Surely you are not insinuating I have Arthur under a spell.”

“No,” Gwen shook her head. “I’m merely saying you have Arthur under a spell, just not the _magical_ kind. It is your kindness, intelligence and willingness to risk your life for others, that has ensnared him. I am unsure why you would think there was anything between Arthur and I. If I’m being honest, there is another that may hold my heart,” she said, ducking her head shyly. “A Knight by the name of Lancelot.”

Godric! Give her a break.

Hermione cleared her throat. “Are you suggesting that Arthur wishes for my hand in marriage?”

_Please say, no! Please say, no!_

“No,”

_Thank God!_

“I am suggesting that he may be _considering_ you as a potential wife.”

_Oh no!_

“That’s not possible,” Hermione shook her head. “Arthur is a Prince and I am but a poor villager, King Uther will never allow it.”

Gwen raised an eyebrow, a smile pulling at her face. “You are too well educated to be a _poor_ villager. I overheard Merlin speaking to some of the people who say you came to this village but were not born to it. No one knows of your past before arriving here. As for King Uther, he will not be on the throne forever, he is already weakening with age and once Arthur is King, he may marry who he wishes. But even so, if Arthur truly wishes for something, I have learned that he will do whatever is needed to achieve it. If you _are_ a poor villager and the Prince should wish for your hand in marriage, he will make it possible.”

~000~000~000~

“Hermione?”

Hermione looked down at Elisa, seeing the little girl shaking and her eyes fearful.

“I’m scared.”

Hermione’s heart broke and she reached down, scooping up the little girl in her arms and holding her against her, rocking her slightly. “I know, little one, but you are safe here. I promise no one will be able to find us. Prince Arthur, his friends and the villagers are doing everything they can to protect us. It’ll all be over soon,” she promised.

Not wanting to admit it, but she was a little worried, too. She wasn’t quite sure how long the noises had been going for, maybe an hour? She heard shouts and cries, explosions and weapons clashing, and she desperately wanted to know what was happening, she wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to stay locked away in the safety of the hut.

A loud explosion sounded, the ground shaking and the children all cried out in surprise and fear. Despite the limited space in her hut, the dozen or so children had all found somewhere to perch whilst Matthew was on a cot, sleeping under the dose of the Sleeping Draught she’d fed him and he was cordoned off by a sheet, the children knowing to stay far away from it.

She couldn’t wait any longer. She had to see what was happening.

“Elisa, you stay here and I’ll be back as soon as possible,” Hermione said, putting the child back on the ground and stepping away but Elisa sprang forward, gripping her cloak tightly.

“Please don’t go,” she begged.

“I have to, but I promise I’ll be back. There may be people that are hurt and need my help. Stay with Eve, she’ll look after you,” she said, giving the little girl a gentle push in the direction of the eleven-year-old girl. Her eyes searched for the oldest of the children. “Edmund, you’re in charge. When I leave, don’t open the door for anyone but me, understood?”

“Yes, Hermione,” the twelve-year-old replied.

Nodding, Hermione made a detour into her storage room, grabbed a dagger and slipped it into the hidden pocket of her cloak and then she left the hut, hearing the bolt being closed behind her.

As soon as she stepped out she saw the ruins and smoke, the sheep and cows roaming free and bodies littered the ground, thankfully, none of them appeared to be any of the villagers. She quickly and quietly made her way through the village, darting between fighters and helping where she could, before she found herself in the centre of the village where most of the fighting was taking place.

She ducked behind a hut, spying Arthur fighting with Kanan but he appeared to have the upper hand, years of training giving him an advantage. Her eyes next landed on Gwen, who despite looked to be struggling was doing rather well for herself as she helped an older woman to safety. Morgana, though clearly not as skilled as Arthur, had likely had some training, too, and easily defended herself. Her eyes fell to Merlin, stood with a sword in hand and his other hand raised, his palm facing the ground.

Hermione had no idea what he was doing but her eyes soon widened when a whirlwind picked up out of nowhere, Merlin’s eyes glowing gold and his brow furrowing as he muttered to himself. Hermione watched, amazed, at such powerful magic and it was working, the whirlwind had frightened Kanan’s men and the majority of them fled.

Her eyes fell back to Merlin, _what was he doing?_ She thought, her eyes widening when the whirlwind grew bigger and more powerful.

He was losing control of the spell.

And that’s when it hit her. Merlin was young, very young! He hadn’t yet learned to control his magic.

She pulled her wand and directed it at the whirlwind, muttering a “ _Finite Incantatum_ ,” beneath her breath, being sure to be careful so no one saw her.

Unfortunately, Merlin was just too powerful for her and she couldn’t overthrow his control. There was only one thing left to do.

Slipping her wand back into her cloak, she left her hiding spot and quickly moved over to Merlin, sidling up beside him. He didn’t startle until she reached out, her hand slipping into his gently, feeling the power radiating off him. His eyes darted to her, still golden but surprised, maybe even scared. In his surprise, he lost further control and the whirlwind was quickly becoming a full grade tornado that would destroy the village if it wasn’t stopped.

“Don’t fight me.”

“What?” He muttered, his golden eyes locked in a gaze with her.

“Don’t fight me,” she repeated.

He looked confused until she allowed her magic free, no longer keeping it contained in the carefully crafted box. It brushed against his, she could feel it twining with his power and his eyes widened as he understood, that she, too, had magic.

She tried to force her magic over his but he was just too powerful. If she couldn’t override it, she couldn’t stop it.

“Relax and let me take control,” she told him, being thankful when he seemed to do just that and she no longer had to put a strain on her magic and it settled over his easily.

With their magic combined but Hermione’s being a little stronger as he’d given her control, she was able to slow the tornado until it was once more a whirlwind and then a gust of wind, until finally, it settled as a gentle breeze.

His golden eyes lost their shine and returned to dark blue and he stared at her silently, his eyes wide and his mouth partially opened. Without saying a word, she released his hand and spun on her heel, running away.

She followed the sound of metal clashing and halted to a stop when she realised there were only two people fighting whilst the rest of the village watched. Arthur and Kanan.

Hermione held her breath as she watched them. Arthur truly was gifted, watching the way he moved gracefully as if he were dancing and not fighting for his life. Hermione gasped when Kanan almost sliced Arthur across the throat but the Prince darted out the way and then surged forward, plunging his sword through Kanan’s chest.

Kanan stumbled back before falling to the ground. There was not a sound to be heard as everyone took in the sight, took in the meaning. They’d done it, they’d saved the village.

Arthur, panting and tired from the fight, slowly turned to face everyone, his eyes scanning the crowd and widening slightly when they landed on her, knowing she was supposed to be locked away with the children.

His eyes narrowed in anger and rather than heading for Morgana, Gwen, Merlin or even one of the villagers, he was heading straight for _her_ , looking as though he were about to give her a telling off.

Her eyes widened at the sight of Kanan reaching for a crossbow and before she could shout out a warning, he fired and the arrow was headed straight for Arthur’s back.

No! He couldn’t die. He was due to be King, this wasn’t mentioned in any of the books she’d read.

A cry of horror left her. Not because the arrow struck Arthur, but William who shoved the Prince out of the way. The arrow lodged firmly in his chest and he fell to the ground.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 7

Hermione was beside him instantly, kneeling on the ground with tears swimming in her eyes and blurring her vision as she tried to get a look at the wound.

“It’s no use, milady,” he spoke, a cough leaving him. “This isn’t something you can patch up.”

“Like hell it isn’t,” she glared weakly, briefly spying Arthur stood behind her and staring at her friend in surprise, whilst Merlin was on the ground opposite her, looking at William in horror, terror, fear of losing him. “Get him home and put pressure around the wound, I’ll be right there. Now!” She ordered, scrambling to her feet and running to her hut no matter of her struggle to breathe. “It’s Hermione, let me in,” she banged on the wooden door loudly and didn’t stop until it opened, rushing past the gathered children and into her storage cupboard.

“Hermione?”

“Everything’s fine,” she lied, speaking as calmly as she could when tears ran down her cheeks and she felt her panic and fear of losing her best friend threatening to overwhelm her. She grabbed a bucket, cloths, bandages, anything she might need and rushed out of the room. “Stay here until someone comes to get you,” she instructed, quickly leaving the hut and running as fast as she could to William’s home.

The crowd gathered around the area all parted, making way for her to pass and giving her sad, pitying looks. She barged into the hut, the door slamming against the wall and Arthur approached. Seeing the tears rolling down her cheeks and her heavy breathing, his eyes softened.

“Hermione...”

“Not now, Arthur...Please...”

She rushed around him and over to the table where William lay with Merlin stood beside him, his hands pressing down on his chest with a wad of cloth and what looked to be a tunic. She batted his hands away and pulled the dagger from the cloak, using it to slice William’s tunic open and giving her better access to the wound.

She removed the blood-soaked cloth to peer at the wound, but there was so much blood she couldn’t see anything. Matthew’s wound hadn’t been nearly as bad as William’s and she’d struggled to save him. Fear spiked through her. No, she couldn’t, she _wouldn’t_ let him die.

She grabbed the cloths she’d brought with her and pressed down around the arrow as hard as she could, her thoughts racing as she tried to think of a way to save him. Without magic it was impossible, she could really do with having a scan of his chest to see how much damage had been done and if any internal organs had been caught, but she couldn’t, there were too many people to witness it.

Her blurry vision darted to William’s face when she heard him coughing, blood coated his lips. No! She couldn’t lose him.

“It’s okay,” William whispered, smiling at her weakly.

“No, it’s not. I won’t let you die.”

“You don’t have a choice. There’s nothing you can do.”

“I saved Matthew!” She cried.

“I think my injuries might be a bit worse,” he rasped, coughing up more blood.

“What were you doing here? You said you were leaving!”

“Had a change of heart, I couldn’t leave you to fight by yourself.”

“William...” She whispered, heartbroken.

His arm lifted shakily, clearly from the effort it took to do so and his hand pressed against her cheek, forcing her to look at him.

“Let me go.”

“I can’t,” she cried, shaking her head.

“I’ll be fine, let me go, there’s nothing you can do. Please...” He begged.

A sob tore from her, her tears falling forcibly down her face and dripping onto the table. She closed her eyes tightly and clenched her jaw, her hands slowly moving from his chest and dropping by her sides, listening to his wishes.

Her hand came up and rested over his on her cheek and she bent at the waist, lowering her head until she was directly above him and their gazes locked. She would be the last thing he’d see before he died.

“Thank you for saving me,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do the same.”

He gave her a weak, bloody smile. “But you did, milady, more than you realise.”

From the corner of her eyes she caught sight of his free hand reaching out and gripping Merlin’s tightly. William’s eyes darted to his oldest friend, giving him a look that conveyed so much emotion and feeling, she didn’t understand it. When William’s eyes returned to her, he gave her a bloodied smile and then his eyes closed for the last time, his breathing stopping.

With a shaky hand, she reached out for his neck, feeling for a pulse. He didn’t have one. A sob tore from her and her eyes closed tightly, tears streaming down her face as she lowered her head and pressed a kiss to his forehead, temple and then finally his cheek.

The room was silent except for her cries and she allowed herself to do so for a few moments before taking deep breaths to calm herself. She rose to full height, placing his hand to rest over his chest and then she stepped back, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her cloak.

Without a second glance to either Merlin or Arthur, she turned and exited the hut, silence falling when the gathered villagers noticed the blood on her hands and face and her puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

She took a shaky breath and said, “Collect your children from my hut as soon as possible so I may see to those that are injured,” and then she strode through the crowd.

~000~000~000~

It had been hours since William’s death, hours she’d spent tending to the injured and cleaning up the mess the children had made in her hut. She wasn’t quite sure how, but they’d had a minimal death count, there being three in total whilst the rest of the bodies had been Kanan’s men. Injuries, on the other hand, there’d been quite a lot of.

There wasn’t a single person –except for herself, Arthur and surprisingly Merlin- that had remained uninjured and Hermione tended to them all, whether they were burns, cuts or just a scrape to the knee. No matter how serious or insignificant the injury was, Hermione tended to it in order to keep herself distracted.

She couldn’t believe she’d lost her best friend. He’d been the first person to show her kindness when he’d found her and brought her to Ealdor. He’d helped her transition into the village, helped her to settle in and find her place. He’d always encouraged her to do whatever she wanted to no matter what people thought of her. To dress the way she wanted, to behave the way she wanted, to be who she wanted, and he never judged her for it. Not once. He’d been the one constant in her life since her arrival in the past and now he was gone. What was she going to do without him?

“Hermione?”

Hermione looked away from the table she’d been scrubbing for almost half an hour and to the door, seeing Merlin stood in the doorway.

She felt her heart shatter all over again at the sight of him, of William’s best friend. She forced back the tears and took a breath.

“Not now, Merlin, please...”

“They’re ready to light the pyre, we’re just waiting on you.”

Hermione blinked slowly at his softly spoken words, before nodding and she left the table, reaching for her cloak which she slipped on over her clothing. Without a word, she left her hut, walking silently beside Merlin as they headed for the crowd gathering around the pyres. She knew he had questions, things he wanted to talk about but she was thankful he allowed her the silence, the time to process the loss of a loved one.

The crowd parted for her and allowed her to stand at the front, Merlin on her left and Arthur appeared from out of nowhere on her right. She could feel his eyes watching her closely but she didn’t respond, she kept her gaze firmly on the pyres. There were two, one that sat the three villagers and the other Kanan and his men.

Hermione signalled with a nod that she was ready and she watched as the pyres were lit, the flames soon engulfing the bodies and the dancing fires lighting up the village, filling it with warmth and light. She felt her eyes tearing up and she did her best to force down the emotion but a single tear still managed to fall. She stood there for several minutes, praying that William would find his way to the afterlife, that he’d find his mother and father waiting for him and that he’d be happy.

After several minutes, she turned and left the villagers, heading for her hut only once she reached the door, she paused and instead decided on a walk through the woods. She blindly navigated her way, not exactly being sure where she was heading but knowing that she wouldn’t get lost due to the number of times she trekked through the woods in search of firewood, moss and other ingredients she needed for her remedies.

She wasn’t quite sure how long she’d been walking and she only came to a stop when she felt as though she could walk no further. Halting, she blinked until her vision focused and she searched her surroundings, quickly realising that she was stood in the area William had found her. She recognised the misshapen trees on the right, the tree stump on the left and the rotting bark of the tree in front of her.

She collapsed to the ground, her legs folding beneath her and barely catching herself on her hands. She wanted to cry but she wasn’t sure she had it in her, she’d silently cried the entirety of the walk and she was exhausted. Folding her cloak beneath her and pulling her hood over her head, she laid down on the ground, staring into the darkness of the night. All that could be heard was the hooting of owls and the disturbance of leaves due to the breeze and the birds landing and taking flight. She basked in the silence, until she heard it, fallen leaves and twigs being trampled on by a heavyweight, she wasn’t sure how, but she knew it was one of two people, and she honestly didn’t know who she’d prefer it to be.

“Hermione?”

It was Arthur, and he’d spoken her name softly as not to frighten her, the worry in his voice would be carefully hidden to anyone else but not to her. She’d grown up surrounded by boys that tried to hide their emotions from her.

“Prince Arthur,” she replied, equally as soft.

“Just Arthur,” he corrected.

Feeling his presence and hearing the disturbance of the leaves close by, her tired eyes slowly fluttered open to see he was sat on the ground in front of her, looking down at her with a soft expression on his face. She noted that he’d changed out of his chainmail and armour at some point and now only wore what he had the day before, a white shirt, black breeches and leather boots.

“How did you find me?” She asked, her eyes falling closed once more.

“I followed you.”

She almost rolled her eyes.

“It’s not safe to be wandering the woods alone late at night.”

“Perhaps, but I needed the space and the silence. I can hear them all whispering and I see their looks of pity. That is not something I need or wish to be exposed to.”

“Why did you leave the children?”

“I grew impatient and felt my talents would be better put to use helping those that may have been injured.”

“Hermione, I asked you to stay with the children so you would be safe. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

Her eyes flew open in surprise, seeing that he’d meant every word he’d spoken. Oh honestly, this was getting ridiculous now! How in the name of Merlin was she supposed to push Arthur away from her without being awful to him? How the hell was she supposed to push him away when he was so kind and considerate towards her? Well, she supposed it was a good thing he was leaving soon and then maybe he’d start falling for Gwen like he was meant to.

“First thing you should know about me, Arthur. I don’t take kindly to being told what to do. I am old enough to make my own decisions and to do as I please,” she replied, her eyes closing again.

“How are you feeling?” He questioned, changing the topic of conversation.

“My best friend was killed, how do you think I feel?” She replied quietly, tiredly.

“Hermione... I’m s...”

“It wasn’t your fault, Arthur,” she interrupted, opening her eyes and tilting her head until she could lock gazes with him. “That arrow may have been meant for you –and it was cowardly and dishonourable of Kanan to attack when your back was turned- but William made the decision to push you aside. I suppose he finally understood what I’d been trying to tell him since your arrival. Unfortunately, this isn’t the first death of a loved one I’ve had to cope with and I know that in time, I shall be fine and I’ll remember to celebrate William for who and what he was, but right now, it hurts like a knife to the heart. I don’t know what I’m going to do without him. He was with me every day, he always encouraged me to be who I wanted to be. I’d turn around and he’d be there, and now, I won’t ever hear his voice or see him baking again.”

Silence fell upon them and Hermione looked away from him and to the ground beneath her, watching the breeze disturb a fallen leaf right before her eyes.

“Did you know he was a sorcerer?”

Hermione’s eyes snapped up to him.

“Excuse me?”

“Did you know he was a sorcerer?” He repeated. Hermione blinked slowly, a frown pulling at her face. “The whirlwind that scared Kanan’s men away, he was responsible for that. He admitted it.”

Why would William lie about such a thing? Unless, he was doing it to protect someone. Her? No, she wasn’t the one to conjure it, Merlin had been...Godric, he knew about Merlin’s magic! That was why he’d been so comfortable around her after discovering her secret. He lied to protect Merlin, to keep his secret safe. Hermione’s heart broke all over again.

“Yes, I knew he was capable of magic,” she lied. William had lied on his deathbed to protect Merlin and she wasn’t going to say otherwise.

“Why did you not tell me?”

She looked back to him, he almost looked...Hurt?

“Why would I tell you of William’s magic? It is my understanding that magic is only forbidden in Camelot, not the Kingdom of Essetir. William didn’t wish for anyone to know and so I kept his secret. William was a good man; he never used his magic for evil, only good, if he used it at all. William not only exposed himself to you, but he gave his life for you, too. Do you believe a sorcerer would do that?”

“No,” he admitted. “And you were not afraid of him?”

“No, William would never hurt me or anyone else for that matter. He had a temper but he never hurt anyone. I’m not afraid of magic, I believe it is a gift from the Gods. I believe that those who have magic and use it for good should be allowed to do so freely. I’ve been around magic users most of my life.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, in the Kingdom of Hogwarts, magic is celebrated.” She saw his eyes widen, whether it was in surprise or horror she didn’t know. “We welcomed those that had magic and we protected them from those that wished them harm. We have a school in which young children who possess magic are expected to attend, and they are taught and trained on how to use their magic for good, to better the lives of others. If there was ever a sign of darkness within a child, they were kindly asked to leave and to never return for Hogwarts is a Kingdom of peace. It is my understanding that many of the sorcerers and sorceresses you have seen in Camelot have practised dark, evil magic and I can understand why magic has been outlawed. But is it really fair that those who are good and wish to use their magic to better the lives of others are punished with execution? Is it really fair that sorcerers and sorceresses are executed without a trial? Without the chance to present their case, to prove they are good and not evil?”

“I...” He started, looking to be struggling to form a reply. He cleared his throat. “It is the way it has always been, since the day of my birth magic has been outlawed.”

“It is the way of King Uther, but Arthur, is it _your_ way? Do you share the same beliefs as your father? Do you wish for a war between magical and non-magical people? I have seen this happen before, Arthur. I have seen the outcome of such a battle and once it was all over, there was no winner. Everyone lost. Is it really fair that they must live their lives in fear? That they are being hunted for simply existing?”

“I don’t know how to respond to that,” he replied honestly, blinking slowly.

“What you have to understand, Arthur, is that magic is not evil, it just is. It is a tool to be used by others, like your sword for instance. Your sword, in the hands of you, is used to protect and defend, but in the hands of a bandit, it is used to steal and kill. Magic is the same. It’s not the magic that is good or evil, rather the person that is using it. I understand if you do not wish to think of such things yet, but someday you _will_ be King and it will be your duty to protect and better the lives of your people. Will that include those who have magic? Will it not? That is something you have to decide for yourself, don’t let your father’s beliefs override your own because once you’re King, you can do whatever you believe is right and good for your Kingdom and its people. I believe in you and you need to believe in yourself.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 6

"Enter," Hermione called, hearing a knock on the door as she prepared herself a spot of tea. She already knew who was on the other side.

That morning she'd woken up in her bed, which was something she'd found odd as she didn't remember walking home. Upon that realisation, she knew that she'd fallen asleep and Arthur must've carried her home and put her to bed. She'd blushed red at the thought. How many people could say they'd been carried by a Prince as they slept? Well, she could.

Shaking her head, she looked up when the door opened and as she expected, Merlin stepped in, his eyes watching her carefully, waiting to see if she'd ask him to leave.

"Merlin," she greeted softly, moving to sit at the small kitchen table and nodding to the seat opposite her.

Slowly, he crossed over to it, perching on the stool and accepting the tea she held out to him. Silently, she sipped at the hot liquid, allowing the warmth to ease the tension in her muscles and she relaxed, a little sigh leaving her.

"What is on your mind, Merlin?" She asked, after opening her eyes and seeing him staring at her.

He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, holding the wooden cup in two hands. "You have magic." It wasn't a question but a statement.

"Yes, I do."

He took a moment to form his next response. "How did you know about me?"

"I saw you and you should really be more careful," she chided and his cheeks tinted pink, amusing her. Here she was, Hermione Granger, a witch from the future chastising the great and powerful sorcerer, Merlin. "I was rather impressed, weather magic is quite difficult to cast, that was, until you lost control." His blush darkened and she realised she was taking for too much amusement out of his embarrassment. "I did try to reverse it but you are far more powerful than I, so I had to be in physical contact with you. When our magic met, it melded together as one which would increase the power, but when you allowed me control, I was able to override your magic and end the spell. I doubt I would be able to cast such a weather spell, but undoing it is quite easy."

"How do you know I'm powerful?"

"I can _feel_ it. You were born with your magic?" She asked and he nodded. "So was I," she stated and he looked surprised. "Those that are born with magic tend to be more powerful than those that aren't. However, you, Merlin, are far more powerful than any other I have ever met. I knew the moment we met you possessed magic and I'm quite surprised you weren't aware that I had magic, too. Most are able to sense when other magic users are nearby, so I can only assume you haven't been around many and are not yet able to sense such an aura."

"An aura?" He asked confused.

"Yes, every magic user has one. I'll show you." She put down her tea and held her hands out towards him, palms facing up and her elbows resting on the table. "Place your hands in mine," she instructed.

He gave her a curious look as his head tilted slightly and he reached out, his larger hands clasping around her much smaller ones. She immediately felt his power and her breath caught slightly as it sent shivers down her spine, her nerves seeming to fry with electricity and goosebumps breaking out on her arms. Taking a breath, she closed her eyes and focused, searching deep down inside herself until she found the beautifully crafted box that contained her magical core and she opened it, feeling her own magic rushing through her veins, bringing with it warmth and comfort. Hermione's mouth tugged into a smile and she let her eyes flutter open, seeing Merlin staring at her with his dark blue eyes being wide, his mouth slightly parted and his cheeks rosier than she remembered them being.

"It...Tingles, I can feel it running through my body..."

She nodded. "That is the feeling I get when around other magical practitioners, but I'm used to it by this point so I barely notice it, it's the opposite for me. When I _don't_ feel it I know I'm surrounded by non-magical practitioners. As for you, it doesn't tingle, it feels as though I've been struck by a bolt of lightning. It seems to be stronger when we're touching."

She pulled her hands back from his though he seemed reluctant to release them, once more blushing when he realised what he'd done.

"How do you know so much about magic? How do you have so much control?"

"I had wonderful teachers," she replied.

"Teachers?"

"I attended a school that is specifically for children that are born with magic," she explained. His eyes widened, a look of wonder crossing his face and he leaned closer to her, almost knocking his tea onto the floor. He gave her a sheepish look and she chuckled at him. "The Kingdom of Hogwarts is home to a school for those with magic. Magic is celebrated and not outlawed. I attended this school when I was a child and they taught me most of what I know, everything else was either self-taught, gained through experience or trial and error. You, Merlin, although incredibly powerful, are still young and have much to learn in the way of controlling your magic."

"Would I be able to go to this school? Would they teach me?"

She frowned thoughtfully, looking to him. It was always rumoured that Merlin had once attended Hogwarts, it was the school that had helped him to grow as a sorcerer, but looking at Merlin now, he was too old to attend school and he had no control at all. That meant that Merlin most likely hadn't attended Hogwarts and that it was just, in fact, a rumour. And a good one, Hermione realised. If you wanted your school to be the most popular choice, a rumour such as that would only draw in students who'd want to learn from the teachers that had taught Merlin.

"I'm sorry to say, you may be too old," she said, a sad smile appearing at the way his face suddenly dropped. "Children attend between the ages of eleven and eighteen, at which they are considered well educated enough to go out into the world and practice magic on their own."

"If you don't mind my asking, how old are you?"

She nibbled at her lip in thought before a wince left her when she caught her injured lip. "Nineteen, I shall be turning twenty in a little over four months. Yourself?"

"I've recently turned nineteen, and Arthur turned twenty-one a few weeks ago."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, wondering why he'd mentioned the Prince but she didn't say anything.

"In any case, you must be careful but you must also practice. You will never learn to control your power and you'll never know what you're capable of unless you do."

"Why don't you come to Camelot with us?"

Hermione blinked in surprise and he looked just as surprised that those words had left his mouth, too.

She sighed and sipped from her tea. "I'm not sure I can, Merlin."

"Of course, you can," he argued. "You're here of your own free will and you can leave any time you wish to. If you come to Camelot, _you_ can teach me everything you know about magic, _you_ can be the one to show me how to control my magic. And I know Gaius will be thrilled to learn of the healing knowledge you possess."

Well, when he put it like that it certainly made sense, but still... She couldn't, shouldn't mess with the timeline in any way.

"I am needed here, Merlin. I cannot leave the people without my services," she replied. His hopeful expression dropped from his face until he was all but pouting. "But I promise that I will someday visit. At this moment in time, I need to process recent happenings. But if you should ever need me, I promise I will be there for you."

She stood from her stool and crossed over to her bed, pulling out a box from beneath it and rummaging inside until she found what she was looking for. After retaking her seat, she held her hand expectantly and once Merlin lifted his own, Hermione deposited a copper coin in his hand.

He eyed her curiously before bringing the coin to his eye level, scrutinizing it carefully.

"Should there be an emergency and you require my help, all you need do is hold that coin in your hand and clearly say, ' _Nuntius_ ,' at which I will be alerted on a coin of my own," she explained, holding the identical coin up in her hand for him to see. "Can you remember that?"

" _Nuntius_ ," he repeated carefully to get the pronunciation right and she nodded. "What will it do?"

Hermione smiled at him before muttering, " _Nuntius_ " beneath her breath, watching as Merlin's eyes darted down to the coin in his hand as it heated up and they widened when, _Hello, Merlin,_ appeared engraved on the coin before disappearing.

He looked to her and she chuckled at his surprised expression. "That's brilliant."

She smiled. "My friends and I used to communicate with one another using these coins when we were being tutored in school. Believe it or not, not _all_ areas of magic are wonderful and interesting, some are actually quite boring and you struggle to stay awake for the duration of the lesson."

"Friends? Are these the friends you mentioned before?"

"Yes, Lord and Lady Weasley both possess magic, as do their seven children. Harry also has magic, as did his parents, Lord and Lady Potter. More often than not, magic is passed on to the children."

He looked surprised by the news. "So if I have children?..."

"Given how powerful you are, it will be highly likely they will be born with magic," she answered, but now that he mentioned it, there was never any record of Merlin having children. Why was that? Surely it would be documented given how powerful he was.

"And you?"

"Yes, it is likely any children I may have will be born with magic."

"And if you were to have children with another magic user?" He asked.

She eyed him carefully. "Then the children will most definitely possess magic," she responded. Giving how far back in time she'd travelled, the inbreeding hadn't yet started so Squibs wouldn't yet be an issue.

"Merlin!"

Hermione startled and Merlin rolled his eyes.

"I believe the Prince is searching for you," Hermione spoke, nodding to the door.

"I best go see what he needs. Thank you," he replied, standing from the stool and giving her a smile before leaving for the door, only he paused and turned around. "He loved you."

"I'm sorry?" She frowned.

"Will, he loved you."

Hermione's heart seemed to stop and then restart as she took a breath and blinked back the tears.

"Yes, I know. I once loved him in the same manner, but I grew tired of waiting. I have been in a similar situation before, and when I realised he was never going to admit his feelings, my own changed and I grew to love him as a friend. Life is too short, Merlin, if there is something you want, you should strive for it and never give up."

"Are you going to be alright here?"

"I shall be fine in a little while, I have plenty to keep me busy with my healing duties and helping to repair the damages done."

"Merlin! I don't have all day! Where are you!"

Merlin rolled his eyes and Hermione laughed as he gave her a smile and then left the hut.

~000~000~000~

"Arthur?" Hermione questioned with a smile as she approached her hut to see the handsome Prince leaning against the wall, looking as though he'd been waiting for her to return. She'd already said her goodbyes to Merlin earlier in the day, so she'd been expecting Arthur to show at some point. "Should you not be preparing to leave?"

"That is why I am here, I wished to say goodbye before we take our leave."

"It has been an eventful few days," Hermione responded. "In case the others haven't done so already, thank you, Arthur. Your help was much appreciated and thanks to your kindness, bravery and willingness to help, the village is safe again and we no longer have to worry about the children or bandits coming to steal what little resources we have."

He smiled. "There is no thanks necessary, Hermione. I wish to ask you something before leaving."

"Of course," she nodded, encouraging him to do so.

A nervous look flittered across his face for a brief moment before it was gone, almost unnoticeable but she'd caught it.

"Would you like to return to Camelot with us?"

Hermione's mouth parted in surprise. What in the name of Godric was going on with the men in this timeline? First Merlin and now Prince Arthur!

"I believe you will enjoy the city and I know you wish to help people; there are plenty of those that could use your kindness and talents."

"I thank you for the offer, Arthur, but I cannot leave Ealdor."

His face fell but he quickly covered it.

"I am still needed here; I am needed to help with the repairs of the village and the caring of the children. I need a little time to come to terms with the loss of William, and I know he would not wish for me to be sad, he would wish for me to celebrate his life, and I will do so once I'm used to the fact he is gone. I've heard tales of the beauty of Camelot and I do wish to visit someday. So, I promise that when I am ready and I'm no longer needed, I will come to Camelot for a visit."

He seemed to perk up at her words, a smile pulling at his mouth.

"Until then, Hermione," he said, reaching for her hand, lifting it and placing a kiss to the back of it. She didn't blush. She didn't! He gave her a bow and she smiled at him.

"Until then, Prince Arthur," she replied, curtsying and he chuckled at her. "And please, think on our discussions from last night. If they are _your_ beliefs, then that is perfectly fine, but if they are your _father's_ , then are you willing to make changes for the betterment of your people?"

"I will," he promised.

Hermione looked over her shoulder, seeing that the horses had been prepared and the Prince's companions were waiting for him.

"It seems they are waiting for you. Have a safe journey, Arthur. We can't be having you getting injured when I am not there to patch you up."

He laughed before giving her another bow and then he stepped around her, walking away, only he turned and walked backwards, his eyes locked on hers.

"I hope it is not too long a wait until our next meeting," he said, flashing a smile that had Hermione's head swimming.

 _Focus_ , she chided.

"As do I, My Prince," she replied.

She wasn't quite sure where those words had come from but she found she'd meant them, and she had a feeling she'd be seeing both Merlin and the Prince again, very soon.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 9

"I don't want you to go," the little girl sniffled.

Hermione crouched down in front of her after she finished packing the last of her items into her satchel.

"I won't be gone long, Elisa," Hermione promised. "There is something I need to get and if I don't, Almeric, Thomlin and Alianor won't get any better and they'll stay poorly. I need help if I'm to get them better. But whilst I'm gone, will you keep watch for Akela? He went hunting and has not been back yet."

"You'll be back soon?" The little girl asked.

"I'll be back soon," she nodded. "No more than a week."

And so, after receiving confirmation that Elisa would watch for Akela, Hermione fastened her travelling cloak and hid her satchel beneath it before leaving out of the hut and heading for the woods, her intended destination being Camelot.

It had barely been two months since the Battle of Ealdor and Hermione was pleased to say the village and its people were thriving in a way they hadn't before. Repairs had been carried out, food stores were increasing and everyone had a newfound sense of safety and comfort, of confidence after they'd defended their village so bravely.

In that time, Hermione had been kept busy tending to her physician duties, continuing with her teaching of reading and writing and she had even taken on two apprentices, a young man by the name of Cole who came to their village but a month ago, and a woman by the name of Polly, who was now widowed after losing her husband during the battle.

It was only that morning when she'd been cleaning her hut that her copper coin had alerted her to a message from Merlin and the first so far. It had only read two words and her heart had stopped dead.

_Arthur's dying._

She had no idea of the circumstances surrounding it but not only was it a severe thing to contact her with, she knew he needed her help without him having to ask for it. He'd said so himself, she had knowledge Gaius, the court physician, didn't and therefore she may have known something that would be of use.

She'd wasted no time in throwing things into her satchel and preparing to leave when Elisa had interrupted and found her packing, the little girl panicking and thinking that she was leaving for good. What she'd told Elisa wasn't a lie, some of the children of the village were sick and although she knew how to cure them, she wasn't sure _where_ to find the specific ingredient she needed and she hoped Gaius would know. This was a dual purpose mission, find the ingredient needed to make a cure and save Prince Arthur and his future. If he died Albion would never be and she couldn't allow that to happen. She wasn't supposed to get involved but here she was travelling to Camelot to save the future King.

She'd be lying if she said she hadn't thought about the handsome Prince or the adorably clumsy Merlin, in fact, she found her thoughts wandering to them at all times of the day. When she was tending to a patient, or taking a stroll through the woods, or making dinner, or even carrying out a reading lesson, they'd randomly pop up in her thoughts and she couldn't stop it from happening. She'd tried to think of other things, to turn her attention elsewhere but it was all for nought and her thoughts always crept back to them.

She wondered if Merlin was practising his magic but being cautious as to not get caught. If Arthur had thought on their discussions regarding magic. If Morgana was yet leaning towards the darker side of magic. If Gwen was still in love with Lancelot or if she and Arthur were falling for one another like they were meant to.

She was ashamed of herself. Everyone had told her she'd made quite the impression on Arthur and Gwen had lamented on the fact, as well mentioning the same about Merlin when she'd said her goodbyes. Hermione was ashamed because she realised that when they'd left, they'd both had made a big impression on her, too. She realised that despite having no valid reason to, she missed them both. She realised that despite only knowing them a day or two, she'd grown quite fond of them and not in a good way, at least, not to her.

Hermione's journey through the woods came to a sudden stop when she felt as though she were being followed, as though someone was watching her and her hand automatically went for her wand before she mentally slapped herself and instead reached for the dagger she carried.

Slowly, she spun in circles, searching her surroundings for bandits or anyone that might wish her harm, but she couldn't see anyone. It wasn't quite yet lunch and she'd expected the woods surrounding Ealdor to be quiet as they didn't receive many visitors, it was when she approached Camelot she knew to be on her guard.

It was quiet except for the sounds of her breathing and the occasional bird flapping its wings and calling to the rest of its flock. A vicious, animalist growl sounded from nowhere, filling the silence and birds fled from their nests in terror. Hermione understood it was the fight or flight reaction. Any human that heard that noise would know instantly what it was and they'd feel fear and be forced to do one of the two, she, however, was far from afraid.

She rolled her eyes at herself and slotted the dagger back into place beneath her sleeve and she let out a sigh of relief, her body relaxing as the tension left her.

"I know you're there," Hermione said amused.

It was silent for a few moments until she heard twigs snapping under a heavyweight and leaves on the ground being trampled on. Slowly, she turned around and Hermione's mouth pulled up at the corners.

"That was very sneaky of you," she spoke, crouching down as the wild wolf approached her, not the least bit weary or afraid.

As the light shone down on him, Hermione marvelled at how beautiful he truly was. His silver-grey fur shone under the rays of the sun, his large bushy tail swished back and forth as he walked and his dark pink tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth rather comically, his mouth opened wide and his sharp teeth showing, almost as if he was smiling at her. His eyes were bright and beautiful as the blue orbs watched her and his slim form looked relaxed and unthreatened.

"Where have you been hiding?" She questioned when the wolf came to a stop before her, sitting down on the ground and lowering his head to nudge against her hand, signalling that he very much wanted a scratch behind the ear.

Chuckling, Hermione obliged and lifted her hand, running her fingers through his soft, thick fur that would keep him warm during the winter and help to camouflage him into his surroundings at night when he hunted.

If anyone should come across her now, she knew they'd be more than worried for not only her safety, but her mental health, too; the strange girl that was petting the head of a wild wolf in the middle of the woods. But Akela wasn't a danger to her and neither was she to him.

Still struggling with the death of William, Hermione had taken to walking in the woods late at night to allow her peace and quiet, for space to think and feel without being judged and without the pitying looks the villagers would give her. It'd only been three days after his death when she'd stumbled upon the wolf, and it was a strange sight indeed.

She was fairly sure wolves weren't common around the Kingdom of Essetir, them all being hunted for their fur and meat. So not only was it uncommon for it to be there, but he was alone, too, and she knew wolves travelled in packs for increased chances of survival. The poor animal had been injured, she wasn't quite sure how but she'd able to get close enough to him to conjure a bowl and fill it with water, ignoring the vicious growls and snarls he sent her way, but he'd been too injured to move and attack her.

The only reason she'd been able to get so close was that she'd moved slowly, she'd proven she wasn't a threat and, of course, her magic was useful, too. It was common knowledge that owls were drawn to magical folk, that they were used as familiars and to deliver the post, but what most didn't know was that wolves were very much the same. She wasn't quite sure how or why, if she were being honest, but she'd read studies that were done on wolves in the wild –something to do with werewolves, she couldn't quite remember- and the researchers had found that one in fifteen wolves would approach a magic user without causing harm. She'd assumed the same had happened with her.

Whilst the wolf had been lapping up the water, she'd summoned the leftover rabbit meat from her hut and placed it before him, the wolf gobbling it down and barely chewing it. Whilst he was distracted, she'd taken a look at his injuries; blood had coated his fur around the stomach area and the back leg and after a quick x-ray, she determined he'd broken his leg, too. From the injuries, she could only assume he'd been in a fight, obviously gotten injured and had fallen behind, the rest of the pack leaving him.

Hermione had focused her attention on healing the injuries as quickly and efficiently as she could and once she'd healed the leg, hearing the bone snap back into place, the wolf had let out a snarl and darted off into the distance, leaving Hermione alone in the dark.

The next morning she'd woken early and as she peered out the window facing into the woods, she'd gotten the surprise of her life when she saw the same wolf from the night before, hiding amongst the trees and watching her. Later that night, she'd left some water and a bowl of chicken out for the wolf and the next morning, both were gone and she'd found the wolf watching her again. That occurred every day for a week, and it wasn't until then that Hermione had dared to approach the wild animal.

A month later the wolf was all but her pet, her familiar, he followed her when she was in the woods and he barely left her side. She gave him water and bits of meat but he otherwise hunted his own food. A couple of weeks after that, Hermione had started leaving the door to her hut open and she'd been surprised when she'd woken to the sight of the wolf curled up in a ball on the floor by the side of her bed.

The villagers had been extremely worried and terrified that the wolf would harm their children or livestock, but she'd assured them he meant them no harm and in the time since meeting him, he'd never once gone near the sheep or chickens. They left him alone and he did the same. He only really interacted with Hermione and it was around that time that he allowed her to touch him. She had thought he'd leave and go in search of his pack but he never did. He sometimes disappeared for a few days at a time but he always came back and knowing he was there to stay, as a friend and a protector, Hermione had named him Akela, after the wolf from the _Jungle Book_ , one of her favourite films when she'd been a child.

Hermione had always found it suspicious and a bit of a coincidence that around the time she'd lost William, she'd stumbled upon the wolf; the wolf that had become her protector and best friend. It was almost as if William was still there with her, and Akela had done wonders in helping her in the grieving process whether she realised it or not. Soon after meeting the large animal, she found that she no longer cried herself to sleep, that she no longer lost track of time after her thoughts and memories ran away from her. To her, Akela had saved her mentally and emotionally.

"I must leave but I will be back in a few days. Until then, keep yourself out of sight, we don't want to risk someone stumbling upon you and harming you." With a final pat to the head, Hermione stood and walked off, leaving Akela behind.

She'd only been walking fifteen minutes when she realised she was being followed by the hunter and she turned around with a sigh and her hands on her hips as she looked down at the wolf disapprovingly.

"Akela, you must stay here. It's too dangerous for you in Camelot, if they see you they'll kill you. Stay here," Hermione said, pointing her finger at the wolf.

Amusingly or annoyingly, –she hadn't yet decided- the wolf didn't seem the least bit affected as he tilted his head to the side and give her a look that all but said, 'Yeah, right.' And she let out a noise of frustration when the wolf waltzed straight past her, his tail swishing back and forth as he took the lead.

She stared at the wolf dumbly before shaking her head and following after him. Well, now that she had a companion and a protector, she didn't feel as nervous about travelling to Camelot. As it was, she was travelling by foot which would likely double her journey time and if she ran out of food, Akela would come quite in handy, not to mention, he'd alert her to danger and protect her if he thought she needed it.

~000~000~000~

It had taken Hermione a little over three days to reach Camelot and thankfully she hadn't wandered into any trouble, mainly because Akela had warned her when there were others nearby and they hid out of sight until it was safe. Hermione couldn't have been sure if they were bandits, hunters or other travellers but she wasn't taking the risk. All she had to defend herself with was a dagger and her magic, and she didn't want to use the latter being so close to Camelot.

Before she entered the large gates of the city, she hid out of sight and rummaged through her satchel of which held her beaded bag, and then she retrieved Harry's Invisibility Cloak, it having been stored in her bag since the day they'd left for the Horcrux hunt. Hermione didn't have time and she didn't want to waste any being stopped from entering the castle, especially if Arthur was dying and she was sure they'd shut down access to the castle with only a select few being able to enter and exit and she definitely wouldn't have been on that list.

So, after convincing Akela to stay hidden in the woods until she returned –which hadn't taken much to do so given the amount of people bustling around-, she pulled the Invisibility Cloak over herself, cast a Silencing Charm and made her way through the city, barely taking notice of the beauty as she was too busy trying to remain undetected and trying not to bump into others.

When she reached the castle, her breath had caught at the beauty of it, it reminding her very much of Hogwarts only it didn't seem to be as dark as sunlight shone down on the white and light grey stone that it had been built from. Now that she was at the castle, she had to be extremely cautious as if she was found and captured, she'd be thrown in a cell and executed. There were several guards stationed at the entrance doors and it had taken a little while for her to create a distraction and sneak through the doors.

Once that was done, she muttered, a " _Point Me_ ," beneath her breath and allowed her wand to guide her to Arthur, it taking her down corridors, around corners, up staircases, down staircases, across banquet halls, past the kitchens and so on. She was very much close to losing her temper until she finally came to a stop outside a large wooden arched door and her wand buzzed in her hand to let her know she'd reached her destination.

Taking a breath, she stowed her wand and reached out, slowly opening the door and peeking inside to see it empty. Releasing a breath, she quickly entered the room and shut the door behind her, leaning against the wood and allowing her heart a moment to slow back to normal.

She pulled the cloak off and stuffed it into her beaded bag in the satchel and her eyes roamed the large room, it seeming to be separated into two by a large archway. On the side she was standing, she could see a fireplace she was sure would provide plenty of light and warmth on a cold and dark night. The empty long table sat a chair either end, the large writing desk in front of the windows was adorned with candles, parchment and writing materials. There was a cabinet here and a chest of drawers there, lanterns were on the walls, and candles and trinkets littered the room but the most dominant feature was the bed. It reminded her or her own bed back in the girl's dorms at Hogwarts, only it was much bigger. The large four-poster bed had the red, thick curtains drawn back and tied to the posts, a huge wooden headboard, fluffy white pillows and a thick red blanket. And in the centre of it all laid Prince Arthur.

Calming her nerves, she slowly approached the bed until she stood beside it and she gazed down at the Prince, her eyes widening slightly. He truly didn't look well. She didn't know what she'd been expecting when Merlin had told her he was dying, but it most certainly wasn't what she was looking at right now. Perhaps she thought she'd be dealing with an injury caused by a battle or a fight, maybe an illness caused by undercooked food or a disease such as the flu. She certainly wasn't expecting to see Arthur bedridden and barely moving.

She removed her satchel from her shoulder and put it on the ground before carefully perching on the edge of the bed and sitting beside Arthur, peering down at him. He didn't wake at the feel of the mattress shifting and that worried her. His eyes remained closed, his skin being far paler than she remembered and it had a sickly hue to it. There was a bandage tied diagonally across his bare chest with a cloth where his heart would be found and looking at it Hermione frowned disapprovingly at the sloppiness of it. His hair stuck his forehead where she could see sweat shining and looking down she could see sweat breaking out on his chest, too.

Being a physician, Hermione was quite accustomed to seeing men and women in all forms of dress when providing them with her services, so it wasn't all that surprising that she found herself comfortable despite his lack of clothing, or his admitted well-defined arms and abdomen.

Looking at him, she felt her heartbreaking for the young Prince. This was not the man she'd met two months ago. He looked weak and vulnerable and Hermione hated it. Letting out a sigh, Hermione reached out and gently brushed his hair away from his face, feeling the high temperature of his skin, he was running a fever and she had to get it down.

Silently, she reached for her wand and cast a Cooling Charm on him, hoping it would bring his temperature down. It did but certainly not enough for her to be happy with. Hiding her wand away, she reached for the pitcher of water on the small cabinet beside the bed and the cloth that laid beside it, and after dampening the cloth, she leaned over and gently swiped it across his forehead and around his face, running it down his throat and over his chest, trying to bring his temperature down a little more.

Taking a breath, she pulled her wand once more and cast as many Detections Charms as she knew, looking for a possible explanation for his illness. She found none until something within his blood spiked, he was infected by a poison that was slowly killing him, only Hermione didn't know what it was or how to counter it.

She was expecting Merlin to have been by Arthur's side watching over him and because he wasn't, she was sure he was working on a way to heal him, which meant it was her job to keep him comfortable and alive for as long as possible. She kept a close eye on his heart rate, not liking that it was slower than it should've been, as was his breathing.

She reached for the cloth once more, wetting it, squeezing out the water and gently swiping it across the skin of his face.

"Arthur," she spoke softly.

She leaned over him slightly to reach the other side of his face and her free hand found his resting against the covers and she slipped it into his, not wanting him to be alone, to feel alone, wanting him to know she was there and taking care of him.

"Arthur, if you can hear me, I need you to hold on a little longer. I know how strong you are and I know you're capable of beating this, so please, don't stop fighting. There are a lot of people that will suffer if you die, they need you to live so you can be a wonderful King, so you can show them how kind and brave you are. You are destined for truly wonderful things, Arthur, I know it to be true. You will bring peace and prosperity to your Kingdom but only if you survive. You have to fight. Fight for yourself the way you fought for the people of Ealdor, the way you fought to protect the children, to protect me. I know you can do it, I know you have it in you and I know you love your Kingdom and the people. Be strong, Arthur, be great, be a King," she ended softly, her eyes focused on his face and searching for any sign of movement in his mouth, his cheeks, his eyes, his forehead, but there was none and she let out a sigh.

"You must be, Hermione."

Hermione startled, dropping the cloth onto the bed, visibly jumping and her hand reaching for her wand before she stopped herself and she turned her eyes to the door, seeing it being closed but before it stood an old man with white chin-length hair, dark blue eyes and wrinkles set around his mouth and eyes. He wore a combination of red and blue fabric, what looked to be fingerless gloves and he seemed to have a permanently surprised look on his face due to the one eyebrow that arched more than the other.

"I am," she replied, eyeing him cautiously.

"Merlin has told me about you."

"He has, has he?" She replied, wondering just how much he knew, though she doubted Merlin would out her to another without her consent.

"Yes, I believe it was something along the lines of... 'I promise, Gaius, she is truly remarkable as a physician and she has methods of treatment that I have never before seen but are incredible." He said, giving her an amused look. "I must say, you have made quite the impression on my nephew."

Hermione didn't blush, okay, maybe she did. Reaching up, she pushed her hair out of her face and over her shoulder and she cleared her throat. So, this was Gaius, the court's physician, Merlin's Uncle and Hunith's brother?

"How did you get in here? The castle is heavily guarded and under lockdown, no one gets in or out?" He asked raising an eyebrow, or at least, she thought he was raising an eyebrow, she couldn't be sure.

"I have my ways," she replied. "How did you know who I was?"

"Merlin assured me you were trustworthy and you'd be able to help the young Prince. When Merlin informed me he'd contacted you, I knew to expect your arrival within a few days. As for how I knew, I simply assumed as you are a beautiful young lady, of which Merlin stated several times over the days after his return from Ealdor."

She looked down, feeling blood flooding her cheeks and she cleared her throat. "I have given the Prince a treatment to bring his temperature down. It has worked but not as much as I had hoped it would," she informed him, reaching for the cloth and returning to swiping it across his face, cleaning away the beads of sweat. "From what I've been able to tell, he's been poisoned but I don't recognise the one responsible. Do you know what it is? Merlin only explained that the Prince was dying and in need of my help."

"Idiot," Gaius muttered beneath his breath and he rolled his eyes before he approached the bed, coming to a stop beside her and looking down at the young Prince. "He was bitten by the Questing Beast, a creature that is conjured by the nightmares of a long-dead King. The bite is fatal. There is no cure to speak of, yet Merlin is doing all he can to save Arthur."

Hermione really didn't like the sound of that and she turned her eyes back to Arthur.

"Have you tried giving him the cures to other poisons?" She asked the older man.

"There is no cure."

"That is not what I asked. I asked if you'd given him the cures to _other_ poisons," she looked up to him, seeing him eyeing her strangely and she sighed. "There might not be a cure, but maybe the cures from other poisons will be able to fight off the poison in his system long enough for Merlin to find what he's looking for. He's showing symptoms of several different poisons at once, the Questing Beast's poison may just be a combination of more than one. We don't know, but it won't kill him, what will is if we do nothing."

"I had not thought of that," the court physician admitted with a frown.

She barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. "I usually carry antidotes with me so I have some in my satchel, I need you to run down to your chambers and collect whatever cures for poisons you have, no matter how common or unique they may be, the more we have the better."

Hermione, realising she still held Arthur's hand, tried to pull it free only for her eyes to widen when she visibly saw his fingers flex, refusing to let go.

"That is interesting," Gaius mused, apparently seeing it, too, and his eyes darting between Arthur, her and their joined hands. "Very interesting, indeed."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 9

It was sometime later when Hermione had finished administering the 'antidotes' to Arthur. Whilst Gaius' cures had been remedies and such, Hermione had fed Arthur as many anti-poison potions as she dared to, not wanting to overdose him but wanting to give him enough to give him the best chance of survival.

It didn't take long for her to see the results either. Although he didn't wake and his skin didn't lose the sickly pale colouring, his temperature dropped lower than it had yet, his heart rate picked up and his breathing cleared a little more, too.

"Well, that is surprising," Gaius commented in disbelief, apparently not having expected it to work.

"You need to have more faith, Gaius," Hermione said softly, brushing Arthur's damp fallen hair away from his forehead. "No matter how dire the situation may be, I have come to understand there is always hope to be had. I believe in Arthur and that he will fight through this. And I believe in Merlin and that he will find a cure. They are both remarkable people and are destined for great things."

Gaius' mouth pulled in a thin line and he clasped his hands in front of him.

"What do you know?" He asked suspiciously.

"What do _you_ know?" Hermione echoed, briefly looking at him with a raised eyebrow before turning her attention back to Arthur, her mouth twitching in amusement when he grumbled beneath his breath in annoyance.

Hermione pulled back from Arthur and tried to remove her hand from his but his fingers flexed once more whilst the rest of him remained still and unconscious. For an almost dead guy, he was _really_ strong.

Hermione sighed. "Gaius, would you mind fetching some water, please? I would do it myself but Arthur doesn't seem to want to release my hand."

"And you'll get caught," he added.

"Oh, I'd forgotten about that. That, too, I suppose."

"You'd forgotten that you may very well be executed for breaking into the castle and the Prince's bedchamber?"

"Hmmm, my life is not of concern. I'm here for Arthur; my focus should be on him, not my safety."

"Ah, now it all makes sense," he replied, sounding amused.

Hermione lifted her head to question him on his comment but he'd already left the room.

~000~000~000~

Gaius had been gone far longer than she'd expected him to be and although she could easily enough conjure whatever amounts of water she needed, she didn't want to do so and have Gaius questioning where she'd gotten the water from when he did return.

It had been almost an hour since he'd left and she was considering going in search of him, her safety be damned, that was if Arthur would finally release his tight grip on his hand.

Sighing to herself, she felt his forehead to find that his temperature was once again rising and after a quick scan, his breathing and heart rate were slowing back down. The concoction of antidotes and cures they'd given him had worn off and he no longer had anything to fight off the poison in his body. She just hoped Merlin found something and quickly as Hermione didn't think Arthur would make it through the night.

She conjured a small amount of water to wet the cloth before hiding her wand and dabbing and swiping the damp cloth across his face, forehead and chest. The door suddenly burst open and she startled, letting out a squeak of surprise and she turned to the door, sighing in relief when she saw it was only Gaius, but he carried a silver goblet in his hand, a wide-eyed hopeful look on his face.

Hermione's mouth seemed to part as an understanding crossed between them. It was the cure. Holding her hand out expectantly, Gaius rushed across the room, handed her the goblet and then backed out of the room, closing the door behind as he muttered something about "Merlin needing him." She thought it odd but she'd have to see Merlin later, right now Arthur needed her.

She could really do with propping his head up to feed him the cure to prevent him from choking but with him refusing to release her hand she only had one to work with. Carefully, she lowered the goblet to his parted mouth and tipped the liquid in slowly and in increments, massaging his throat to help the liquid down his throat without choking. Once all of it was gone, she placed the goblet off to the side and used the cloth to wipe the droplets that had dribbled down his chin and onto his chest.

Now it was a waiting game.

She felt for a pulse and noted it was stronger than before and his fever was breaking but to help it along she kept pressing the damp cloth to his skin. She wasn't quite sure how long had passed but before she knew it, she had leaned over Arthur's body to readjust the blankets a little more and when she pulled back, bright blue eyes were staring at her, quite clearly and rather intensely, especially for someone who'd just woken up from an unconscious state after almost dying for three days.

"Good afternoon, Prince Arthur," Hermione spoke softly and she felt the hand that was still holding hers give her a gentle squeeze. "I must say, you gave us quite the fright and I would appreciate it if you would refrain from such actions in the future."

"Hermione..." He rasped out, his voice cracking from a lack of use.

She smiled at him. "Well, you did say I had a better bedside manner than the court physician. I thought it would be much more pleasant for you if you were to wake with me by your side rather than Gaius. Wouldn't want to frighten you, would we?"

His mouth twitched in amusement, his hand squeezing hers once more. "You're certainly a sight to behold upon waking," he replied. She felt her cheeks heat up. "What are you doing here? How did you get into the castle?"

"I have my ways," she smiled. "Merlin contacted me and told me you were injured, so of course, I packed myself up and journeyed to Camelot to ensure you had the care you needed. I've got to say, looking at your bandages I'm not quite pleased with Gaius and he shall be getting an earful from me when I next see him."

"You came all this way for me?" He asked, his forehead crinkling.

"I did," she nodded, reaching up to press her hand against his forehead and his eyes fluttered closed at the touch. "Hmmm, not quite back to normal but I'd say you no longer have a fever. I believe the cure's worked its magic but I would suggest you stay in bed for the rest of the day. You've been through quite a lot these last few days and your body's been working hard to fight off the poison so I won't be surprised if you're still a little tired."

"Cure? Did you cure me?"

"No, I was just here to pro-long your chances of survival for as long as possible and to give Merlin enough time to find a cure. Merlin's the one who saved you."

He blinked in surprise. "Where is he?"

"I'm not entirely sure, to be honest. I asked Gaius for more water and he didn't return until an hour later, at which he had no water but the cure and then he left you in my care. Merlin's the one that saved your life, I just watched over you and you're the one that fought. You didn't give up, Arthur, and for that, you should be incredibly proud of yourself. But I have to say, this isn't quite what I had in mind for our next meeting."

His mouth pulled into a smile and he tried to push himself into a sitting position but Hermione gave him a disapproving scowl and held him down to the mattress, her hand pressed against his shoulder.

"Stay where you are, if you move too quickly you'll get dizzy," she scolded.

"How long are you staying?"

She smiled at him sadly and his face pulled into a frown. "I'm not, Arthur."

"But..."

"I would like to stay for longer and see the city, but I have to get back to Ealdor, there are three children who are ill and they need my attention. I came here to ensure your health and well-being and I'm certain you're going to be fine and you'll be back on your feet by tomorrow and without any lasting damage. I'm happy to see you're looking a lot better, but I really have to get back to Ealdor."

"Will you visit again?"

She nodded. "I promise I'll visit again, hopefully without there being a threat of death so I won't have to break into the castle and avoid the guards. It was quite time consuming," she replied and he chuckled at her.

Her head snapped to the door when she heard a ruckus and footsteps in the hallway and her eyes widened.

"Oh," she muttered. "I best go, no one but you and Gaius knows I'm here and I don't fancy the idea of being arrested for trespassing and breaking into the castle. Look after yourself and be careful," she told him.

She stood from the bed and he finally released her hand. She grabbed her satchel and threw it over her shoulder before darting to the door, hiding behind it when it burst open.

"Arthur!"

"Father," Arthur replied, his eyes not on the King but her.

The King slowly approached the bed and Hermione took her chance; she crept around the door, peeked outside into the hallway to see it empty and with a final look over her shoulder, she sent Arthur a smile and then dashed down the corridor, hiding in an alcove and pulling out the Invisibility Cloak. She slipped it around her frame and just in time as two guards walked right past her and she gave a sigh of relief. Using her wand to navigate, she found her way to the physician's chambers and knocked on the door, but receiving no reply she pushed it open and stepped inside.

It was quite similar to her own room only much bigger, with cots and remedies cabinets placed about the room and a large table in the centre. She saw a set of stairs to the left and a door at the back of the room but she knew better than to go snooping through other's belongings. Instead, Hermione took a seat on one of the cots and remained under the cloak lest someone spotted her and whilst she waited, she dug around in her bag until she pulled out some reading material to keep her busy.

~000~000~000~

She didn't know what time it was or how long she'd been waiting, but when the door burst open and she sprang upright, she realised she'd fallen asleep. She looked to the window, seeing that night had fallen and the moon was shining high and then her attention was pulled towards the door as Merlin stumbled inside looking a little worse for wear and he supported the weight of a half-asleep Gaius. She wished to help but if she exposed herself in front of Gaius it meant there was another that knew her secret and the less that knew the better, but she also wasn't sure if she _could_ trust him not to tell anyone.

Hermione followed Merlin's movements as he helped Gaius up the staircase and a ruckus sounded from above and minutes later he reappeared and headed towards the door at the back of the room. When he opened it, Hermione got a glimpse inside and she realised it was a small bedchamber, likely Merlin's. She didn't know what he was doing but she saw him fussing with a blanket and then he backed out of the room, closing the door after him and letting out a huge breath.

Hermione decided to make her presence known and she slipped the cloak off and hid it away before standing from the cot and facing the sorcerer.

"Hello, Merlin," she spoke softly.

He visibly jumped and almost knocked an assortment of vials onto the ground when he bumped into a small cabinet. He spun around, his eyes widening when they landed on her.

"You came," he said, not in surprise that she'd done so, but rather that he was seeing her stood before him.

"Of course, I did. I gave you that coin for a reason, Merlin. If you need my help then you shall have it."

She hadn't seen it coming nor had she expected it, which is why she was so surprised when he strode forward and pulled her into a hug, wrapping his taller frame around her much smaller one. It was probably considered to be a highly inappropriate act given the times but for her it didn't much affect her, being used to it from her friends and family. So, she lifted her arms and wrapped them around his back, remaining silent as she heard his breathing pick up as if he were hyperventilating. It took him a few moments to realise what he'd done and he pulled back from her, his cheeks blazing pink and he struggled to meet her gaze.

"I'm sorry, Hermione...I'm sorry..." He apologised profusely.

She smiled at him, hoping it would calm him. "It's perfectly alright, Merlin. Sometimes I find a good hug and a cup of tea can do wonders for a person."

"How long have you been here? Where did you come from? How did even get into the castle? I mean, I knew you were here, Arthur told me when I went to check on him, but..." He shook his head in confusion

"I came from Ealdor," she replied and his mouth tugged into a smile and he rolled his eyes. "As for getting into the castle, I have my ways, Merlin. I've been here since not long before lunch, I spent most of my time watching over and caring for Arthur. As you know, he's alive and well and I left him with King Uther when I snuck out of his chambers. I'm not entirely sure how long I've been here, if I'm honest, but I had a feeling you'd wish to speak with me before I left."

His face fell and a frown pulled at his brow "You're not staying? Arthur mentioned you were leaving, but I hoped he was wrong."

"I wish I could but I have to get back to Ealdor, I left three sick children to come be with Arthur and I have to get back to them as quickly as possible. I was hoping that whilst I was here I'd be able to speak to Gaius, I'm in need of some fenugreek and I was hoping he'd know where to find it."

"Oh," Merlin said with a thoughtful look on his face.

He spun on his heel and crossed over to one of the cabinets, rummaging around the shelves before he turned to face her with a jar in his hand and a look of victory on his face.

"Fenugreek," he said, approaching her and holding it out in offering.

She blinked in surprise. "Merlin, I can't take Gaius' ingredients, especially without his consent or knowledge."

"I don't think he'd mind. He hasn't had need for this in a while and he'd much rather it be used than go to waste, especially if it'll help children."

"Merlin..."

"It's fine," he interrupted. "I promise, fenugreek grows in the woods not far from the city gates, I can gather more for Gaius before he even wakes and realises it's missing."

"I don't want to get you in any trouble."

"You won't, I doubt he'll even notice it's missing," he smiled.

"If you're sure, thank you, Merlin," she replied and accepted the jar, stuffing it into her satchel.

"Do you have a bed for the night?"

"No, I'm leaving now," she replied, not missing the way he glanced between her and the darkness outside worriedly. "It took me a little over three days to get here on foot."

"On foot?" He said, his voice rising slightly and his eyes widening.

"Yes, you know we don't have horses to spare and I didn't come across any farms or sellers of horses, so I was forced to walk. I best leave now as I've a long journey ahead of me. Why don't you walk me to the gates and we can talk? I'm sure there's something you'd like to speak to me about and with Arthur no longer being in danger, security won't be as big of an issue as it was when I broke in."

He nodded slowly and they left the chambers, Merlin leading the way to the exit and they left the castle without anyone seeing them. Given the late hour, the city was deserted but despite that, Merlin remained quiet as he walked beside her and Hermione knew better than to push someone who wasn't ready to talk.

By the time they reached the gates, she'd expected him to stop and say his goodbyes but he escorted her out of the city walls and into the woods until they could no longer be seen.

"I did something I'm not proud of," he spoke for the first time since leaving the castle.

"And that would be?" She asked softly. "Merlin, you will face no judgement from me," she assured him after seeing the worried look on his face. "I've done things in the past that I'm not proud of either but I know they were essential for my survival as well as the survival of others."

"To get the cure for Arthur, I had to visit the Isle of the Blessed. Nimueh was there, she's the reason magic is outlawed in Camelot," he explained to Hermione's confused expression. "If I wanted to save Arthur, a life had to be taken. A life for a life, balance must be kept."

Hermione really didn't like where this was going.

"I agreed to give my life for Arthur's and she gave me a silver goblet that I filled with rainwater. I carried it all the way back to Camelot and gave it to Gaius."

"Who gave it to me and I fed it to Arthur," she nodded.

"Well, I was expecting to die but when I went to see Gaius, I found my mother and she was dying. Nimueh tricked me and was taking her life instead of mine."

Hermione tried to contain her gasp but failed. She'd known Hunith had left the village to visit Camelot but Hermione hadn't known why. Since William's death, the older woman had kept to herself and she'd barely left her hut, she wouldn't even to speak to Hermione.

Hermione felt truly awful for Merlin. She didn't agree with such magic but she had to remind herself that for the times she was in, sacrificial magic was quite normal and natural. It hadn't yet been outlawed and therefore, lawfully, Merlin had done nothing wrong. It was his destiny to keep Arthur alive until he became King and he'd done so by exchanging his life for Arthur's, which Hermione thought was a truly brave thing to do. It showed how much he truly cared for the Prince, how much he believed in him and that he was willing to sacrifice himself so that Arthur may live and be the King he was destined to be. Hermione found a new sense of respect for the sorcerer.

Unfortunately, Merlin had learned the hard way that sacrificial magic wasn't always the right choice. As much as she disagreed with it, she couldn't blame Merlin for what he'd done. He was known to practice the magic of the Old Religion, whilst Hogwarts was teaching new forms of magic, the magic she knew. Within the next century or so the Old Religion practices would die out and a new form of magic would pave the way for the future.

Hermione reached out, her hand slipping into Merlin's and he squeezed it tightly, twining their fingers together.

"I couldn't let my mother die, Hermione, I couldn't. Not for me, not for a mistake I made. So I went back to the Isle of the Blessed to exchange my life for my mother's, but when I got there, Gaius was dead. He knew of my plans and to stop me, he left to exchange his life before I could. I've never felt so angry, Hermione. I've never felt so much hatred and I couldn't stop it, my magic. I fought with Nimueh but she was a lot stronger than I was, she'd been doing magic longer and had better control. She'd thought she'd killed me and when she was distracted, I hit her with a bolt of lightning. I _killed_ her. With her death, Gaius' life was restored and with Gaius' sacrifice, my mother's was restored, and with my sacrifice, Arthur's was restored."

"Balance," Hermione said softly, squeezing his hand when he refused to look at her.

He was truly distraught by what had happened, she could see it, she could _feel_ it in his magic as it reached out and brushed against hers. Hoping to give him some comfort, she released her magic and allowed it entwine with his, it washing over him like a soothing balm and he turned to look at her.

"It wasn't your fault, Merlin. It truly wasn't. You were not responsible for what happened to Arthur and yet you were going to give your life for his. It's not your fault your mother's was taken. It wasn't your fault Gaius wished to protect you. And it's not your fault Nimueh's life was taken."

"I killed her," he whispered, his eyes distraught, shameful, and her heart broke for him.

"Sometimes death is inevitable. I've killed people, too, Merlin," she admitted.

The look that crossed his face was of pure disbelief and it clearly said he didn't believe a word she'd spoken.

"With magic?"

"Yes, with magic," she confessed. "I told you that my Kingdom suffered a war." His eyes suddenly widened in understanding. "Exactly, I fought in it. I didn't kill in cold blood, only self-defence and I've never been able to forget what I've done no matter of the fact it was them or me, them or my friends, them or my family. It didn't matter, it was still a life taken to me. But Nimueh wasn't your fault. You fought, she tried to kill you, Merlin, and you only defended yourself. It was self-defence. Say it."

"It was self-defence," he said quietly.

"Yes, it was," she agreed. "You're a good man, Merlin. There's not an ounce of evil in you and I know you're destined for great things. I know you're capable of so much. Don't give up and don't allow this to take over your life. It's awful that it happened but it's not your fault that you were stronger or smarter. I know what I'm about to say is going to be difficult for you, but please don't blame yourself. And if you need me, you know what to do."

She came to a stop and with her hand entwined with his, he halted, too, looking down at her with his dark blue orbs. This time it was Hermione that reached up and pulled him into a hug, his taller frame bending slightly as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She felt him freeze for but a moment and then his arms folded around her and a sigh left him.

"Will you come to Camelot again?"

"Yes, I will return," she answered honestly, because she _knew_ she would.

She didn't know how or why, but she got the feeling she was _meant_ to be at Camelot. She could feel it in her magic, she could feel that maybe, just maybe, she had a purpose after all. With this newfound knowledge, Hermione knew she'd have to prepare the village for her leaving.

She pulled back from Merlin but before she stepped away entirely, she reached up and placed a kiss to his cheek. She could see his skin blazing pink even in the darkness and she barely held in her chuckle.

"I must go, tell our dear Prince that I shall see him soon, and please tell Gaius that it was a pleasure to meet him, although, he really must work on his wrapping of bandages, the job he did on Arthur was terrible and he's lucky he was half-asleep, otherwise I would've given him a good talking to."

Merlin laughed. "That is something I wouldn't mind bearing witness to."

"Well, if I'm coming to Camelot again, you just might. Be careful, Merlin, and look after yourself. Hopefully, I will see you soon."

She would make sure of it.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 8

“Silly wolf,” Hermione shook her head with a laugh, leaning against a tree with her arms crossed over her chest as she watched Akela wriggle and writhe on the floor, trying to scratch his back against the uneven ground with loud snort-like sounds leaving him and his mouth hung open wide with his tongue lolling out of the side of it.

She’d been journeying to Camelot for just over a day now and Hermione had stopped to rest given that she was tiring and Akela had apparently found _the_ best back-scratching post in the world.

Almost two months had passed since she’d travelled to Camelot and watched after Arthur whilst Merlin found a cure to save his life, and the moment she’d arrived in Ealdor, she’d gotten straight to work, whipping up the remedies the sick children needed and within a week they were as right as rain, running around the village and annoying their parents with their abundance of energy and refusal to talk quietly.

She’d immediately started preparing for her leaving, making sure to get Cole and Polly in her hut as often as possible as she didn’t have a lot of time to teach them everything they would need to know. For Hermione, she’d already had a basic understanding of first aid which had given her an advantaged due to modern practices, but her experiences of healing Harry and Ron and Fred and George, even Seamus and Neville over the years had come in handy, as did the medical books and tomes she’d gotten from the Black library during their time staying at Grimmauld when they were on the Horcrux hunt.

Cole was a fast learner whilst Polly struggled a little to keep up but with them both helping her, she soon picked it up. It was a month after her return when she announced that she was leaving. As expected, the villagers had been in disbelief to hear they were losing her and the children had been distraught, no one more so than her little ray of sunshine, Elisa, and her possible future husband, Tobyn.

She’d barely gotten any time in to rest during the second month as she had far too much to do, ensuring the children were able to finish their reading and writing lessons by themselves and if not, that the adults she’d already taught would help them. She had to ensure Cole and Polly knew where to find the ingredients needed for remedies and that they knew how to grow and harvest them, too, as Hermione wouldn’t be leaving all of her stores behind, especially her rarer ingredients.

The day before her leaving, the village had hosted a little party to say thank you for all that she’d done and to wish her luck for the future. There had been fire pits, singing and dancing, as much food as they could afford to use from the stores and plenty of drinking.

The following morning she’d been sent off with many a hug from the children, some of them even following her into the woods until their parents called them back because they’d travelled too far out of sight. She left with only two satchels to carry, the majority of her items being hidden away in her beaded bag and stashed in the hidden pocket inside her travelling cloak. She only took items of clothing, her ingredients and books and enough food to tie her over for the long journey. She’d met Akela in the woods and despite explaining to the wolf that she was going to the city and it was best he stay in Ealdor, he hadn’t listened and waltzed ahead, taking the lead.

Hermione couldn’t describe it but as the days to her leaving Ealdor grew closer, the more she thought about Arthur and Merlin, the more excited she grew, the more nervous she became, the more she felt as though she were making the right decision. She just _knew_ she had to be in Camelot. Maybe it was to keep an eye on the Prince and ensure he married Gwen, maybe it was so she could help Merlin, she could show him how to control his magic though she knew it would be quite difficult. She had a wand, Merlin did not. As far as she was aware, wands hadn’t yet been invented and wouldn’t be for another seven or eight centuries, so it was imperative she was very careful with her own. She still had Bellatrix’s wand as a backup, but she’d rather not have to use it given the horrible acts it had been used to commit.

A sneeze sounded and Hermione looked to her wolf in amusement when he rolled onto his stomach and buried his nose beneath his paws and she snorted. Honestly, her wolf wasn’t so wild anymore, not really. He slept by the side of her bed every night, he ate food out of her hand, he followed her commands –most of the time-, he was house trained _and_ he liked cuddles. The others in the village had found it odd but Hermione was used to his behaviour, but he would only act that way with her and no one else.

“Come on, Akela, if we keep stopping we’ll never get there and we’ve got at least a two day’s journey ahead of us,” Hermione said, pushing herself away from the tree and continuing down the path, her wolf soon catching up and running ahead.

It was around dinner when Hermione knew she should find somewhere safe to hide away for the night as it would soon be growing dark, and although she didn’t stop walking, she kept her eyes peeled for the perfect spot but had yet to find it.

As the sky grew dark and a chill picked up, Hermione suddenly became aware that is very quiet, too quiet, and she had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. Whenever that happened, usually something terrible happened. Spending years diving into danger and dodging death, Hermione had picked up a sixth sense for such occasions.

It was a bad time for her wolf to have spotted a rabbit not long before and he ran off in the opposite direction as he chased it. Before, Hermione hadn’t been all that bothered knowing that he’d find his way back to her like he always did, but now, Hermione was cursing the damn rabbit to hell and back.

She could feel eyes on her and they were very much human, but not wanting to give anything away, Hermione forced herself to remain calm and to keep walking, maybe they’d leave her own. Yeah, she didn’t believe it either but it was wishful thinking. Hermione’s hands slipped beneath her cloak, feeling for the dagger under her right sleeve and her wand beneath the left.

She was glad she’d hidden her beaded bag as that contained everything she needed, whereas her satchels were simply holding clothing and food. But what if they were bandits and they took her cloak, too? Then they’d have her beaded bag and she couldn’t risk it falling into the wrong hands, not only due to the magic but it contained knowledge of the future. What was she going to do?

As carefully as she could, as to not alert them to any movement beneath her cloak, she reached for her beaded bag, removed it from the pocket and very carefully slipped it down her shirt and with it being tucked into her breeches, she didn’t risk it falling out.

She came to a sudden stop when three men appeared before her, stepping out from behind trees and blocking her path. She took a step back, hearing more footsteps and she briefly looked over her shoulder seeing another four, all dressed in dark clothing, carrying swords and looking as though they could do with a wash.

“Why don’t you give us what you’re carrying and we’ll let you go?”

Hermione didn’t believe him. The glint in his eyes said otherwise and if she was going to die, she wasn’t going down without a fight.

~000~000~000~

“Merlin! For God’s sake, hurry up!” Arthur called, twisting to look over his shoulder and seeing that his idiot manservant had not only fallen behind, but he appeared to be having trouble with his horse.

It had been Sir Leon’s idea to give Merlin a different horse to the one he usually rode and with the excuse of him being groomed and tended to by the stable boy. And seeing as Arthur did so enjoy to mess with Merlin, he hadn’t taken much convincing. As it was, this horse didn’t seem to like Merlin, refusing to do as Merlin wished and it had even tried to buck him off once or twice, which had been quite the sight and earned quite the raucous laughter from his travelling companions.

“It’s not my fault, it’s the horse; it doesn’t like me!” His manservant argued.

“Well, Cedar obviously has excellent taste,” he replied and his fellow Knights laughed loudly. “The horses are trained exceptionally well, don’t blame them for your stupidity...What was that?”

“What was what?” Merlin asked innocently.

Arthur sent him a baleful glance and ignored Merlin’s smile as he turned to face forward. He honestly hoped they came across something soon. There’d been reports of a group of bandits terrorising the pathway that not only led to Camelot but several villages, too. Seeing as it had been going on for months now, Arthur had put together a group of Knights to ride with him out of Camelot and in search of the bandits to put an end to it once and for all.

They’d travelled a day so far and with the sky darkening and the night setting in, he knew they’d have to find someone to set up camp and rest for the night, before continuing with the journey the following morning. Taking another glance over his shoulder, he saw Sir Brennis and Sir Geraint as they rode beside one another, seeming to be in an intense conversation whilst Sir Leon was behind them and as usual Merlin was last, struggling to keep up.

“Merlin! We haven’t got all day,” Arthur called to him and the look the manservant gave in return, Arthur was sure would melt silver and he felt his mouth twitch in amusement.

Seeming to have had enough of his taunts, Merlin kicked his horse and a sudden panicked look crossed his face and the horse rose up on his back legs and then he took off in a gallop, Merlin letting out a cry and hanging onto the reins for dear life when he raced past all four of them and took the lead, his fellow Knights bursting with laughter.

Arthur let out a sigh; honestly, he didn’t know how Merlin would survive without him.

Not wanting his manservant to die by horse, Arthur lightly kicked his own mare and she picked up speed, following after Merlin at a more controlled pace.

“Arthur!” He heard Merlin call.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “What Merlin? Did you fall off your horse again!” He called back, the Knights behind him sniggering.

“Arthur!” He called again, but this time he noted the tone of panic in his voice.

Arthur knew his manservant and though he would never admit it aloud, he knew that Merlin, despite being useless and clumsy, was one of the bravest people he’d ever met. Hearing the clear panic in his voice, Arthur kicked his mare a little harder and she took off in a gallop, his Knights quickly following him.

Arthur soon reached Merlin, seeing him a little ways down from his horse and he was crouched down on the floor. Arthur grabbed the reins of Cedar before he could run off and Sir Leon appeared beside him, taking them from him whilst Sir Brennis took the reins on his mare, and he dismounted with his hand on the hit of his sword as he cautiously approached.

“Merlin, what is it?” He asked his manservant.

Merlin looked over his shoulder, his eyes wide and his face horrified. With this movement, Arthur saw what Merlin’s body was blocking, a figure lying on the ground. As he grew closer, he saw it to be too small to be male and there was a head of bushy, wild hair.

“Arthur, it’s Hermione,” Merlin muttered.

Arthur felt his head swimming with fog, his stomach dropped and his chest tightened painfully as he stumbled back in his steps, being caught and righted by Sir Leon. Sparing him a glance, he saw the horses had been taken care of and Sirs Brennis and Geraint were stood beside Sir Leon, each of them looking between him and Merlin confused.

“Hermione?”

As the name fell from Sir Leon’s mouth, something inside Arthur seemed to snap and he found himself shrugging off the man’s hand on his shoulder and he lunged forward, falling to the ground on his knees beside Merlin and all but shoving him out of the way. He reached for the shoulders of the woman and give her a gentle tug, pulling her towards him and rolling her onto her back.

Merlin was right. It _was_ Hermione. His face morphed into horrified terror. What in the name of God was she doing there? What had happened to her?

His eyes searched, seeing a cut on her forehead that was dribbling blood, a split in her lip and a larger pool of blood soaking through the sleeve of her right upper arm. She had scrapes on her palms, leaves and broken twigs embedded in her hair and her clothing was dirty.

He removed his riding gloves and reached out, his hand touching her face and he drew it back quickly when he felt how cold she was.

“Get me something to cover her with, quickly!” Arthur ordered, his voice rather snappish. His Knights blinked dumbly but as one they all rushed to their horses and searched their saddlebags.

Annoyed with how long it was taking them, Arthur reached up and unclasped his cape, setting the thick red fabric over Hermione’s form and bending to lift her into his arms, holding her against him so only the bottom half of her body remained on the cold ground.

“Hermione,” he muttered softly.

There was no response. He looked to Merlin, seeing his usually composed manservant staring at Hermione with the same expression of horror, his eyes wide and worried, his mouth parted slightly and his hand held out and hovering, as if he wanted to touch her but didn’t dare.

“Hermione,” he said a little louder and giving her a gentle shake in his hold.

A sudden groan sounded from her and his eyes snapped to her face, seeing her eyes moving beneath her eyelids before they slowly fluttered open, her dark, beautiful eyes locking on his.

“Arthur?” She muttered, sounding tired and confused.

“It’s me, Hermione,” he replied softly, his hand coming up to gently cup her face, turning her head back to him when he saw it tilting to the other side. “You’re safe now, I promise.”

“We really must stop meeting like this,” she said, her voice a little louder now that she seemed to be waking up and he found himself chuckling.

“We must,” he agreed. “What happened? What are you doing out here? You should be at Ealdor.”

“Surprise,”

“Surprise?” He questioned confused.

“I promised I’d return to Camelot.”

Arthur felt his breath leave him and a smile threatened to take over his face but he squashed it down, needing to focus on her and not his own thoughts and feelings.

“I was looking for somewhere to rest for the night and then...”

“What happened, Hermione? I need you to tell me.”

She frowned, as if she couldn’t remember which was possible, especially if she’d bumped her head.

“Bandits,”

Arthur’s heart seemed to stop at that single world. He was going to kill _every_ single one of them.

“How many of them?” He asked, trying to keep the anger from his voice, trying to remain calm.

“Seven, eight, I can’t remember. There were too many of them, they took everything, my bags, my cloak, my mother’s necklace...” She said, her hand coming up to her throat and he looked down, seeing the faint marks were it looked as though a chain had been ripped from her neck. “It was all I had left of her.”

Arthur’s jaw clenched tightly. “When did this happen, where did they go?”

“Back that way, I think,” she replied, tilting her head back a little to gesture they’d gone in the direction they’d been travelling in. “I don’t know how long ago, it was just getting dark.”

That wasn’t that long ago! Less than half an hour, at most.

“They were on foot.”

Even better, he thought. They could catch up to them a lot quicker with the horses and if luck was on his side, they might’ve set up camp for the night. Arthur hoped they had.

He looked to his Knights, ignoring their looks of surprise at the gentle way he was speaking and interacting with Hermione, and he said,

“Get the horses, we’re going after them.”

“But, Sire, it is dark...”

“Get the horses, we’re going after them now!” He snapped, seeing them startle at his tone. “They’re on foot, they’ve got a half an hour head start on us at most, with the horses we can catch up to them and if they’ve camped for the night, we’ll take them by surprise.”

They blinked slowly.

“This ends now!”

Understanding that he’d made up his mind, the three Knights turned and untied their horses, mounting them and preparing to head into battle.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised Hermione, running a finger down her cheek and her eyes closed, her head tilting into the touch.

“Be careful, I’m not quite up to patching you up if you get injured,” she replied tiredly.

“I’ll be careful,” his mouth twitched. “Merlin will watch over you until I get back,” he said, looking to his manservant with such a terrifying glare, Merlin simply kept his mouth shut and nodded.

Carefully, he shifted her weight into Merlin’s arms and then stood and quickly mounted his horse, sending her into a straight gallop as they raced down the pathway, their eyes and ears watching and listening for any sign of the bandits.

The longer it took to find them, the faster the anger within him built until white-hot fury burst before his eyes and all he could think about was seeing Hermione’s injured, unconscious form and that he planned on killing everyone involved. By the time ten minutes had passed, Arthur could feel himself shaking in anger and he clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes, trying to focus.

“Sire, we’re not going to...” Sir Brennis never finished his words as Arthur glared murderously over his shoulder.

They rode for a few more minutes before the flames of a fire could be seen up ahead and loud voices could be heard laughing and cheering. It was them, he knew it.

He dismounted his horse and quickly tied her to a tree before pulling his sword and walking forward, having no such plans of trying to sneak up on them or take them off guard. He wanted them to see him coming. He wanted them to know they were going to die that night and by his hand.

Everything seemed to happen all at once and before Arthur knew it, he’d entered their makeshift camp and had taken out the first man before he’d even drawn his sword. The second quickly followed with the metal clashing and then Arthur driving his sword through his chest. Not once did feelings of regret surface.

Two came at him at once but were quickly intercepted by Sirs Brennis and Geraint, and a third was blocked by Sir Leon. Arthur headed for the largest of the group, he was more than likely to be the leader of the bandits and as he stood by the fire pit, his face was lit up by the flames and Arthur could see the fear in his expression.

 _Good_ , he thought.

Arthur charged at him and as metal clashed and they danced around one another, it was clear to him he was the best swordsman out of the group, but still not good enough for a Knight who’d been training since he was old enough to hold a sword.

He fell to the ground in a heap of limbs and Arthur turned around, his eyes scanning the camp as he breathed heavily and he wiped at his forehead with his sleeve. Seven bodies littered the ground. Arthur couldn’t find it in himself to care.

His eyes wandered in search of Hermione’s belongings and they landed on two satchels by a tree stump, Moving over to them and kneeling down, he found them both to be empty and then his eyes moved to the fire, seeing the fabric in place of firewood; they’d burned her clothing and her cloak, too. He could see crumbs of what looked to be bread and cheese, as well as an empty waterskin. They’d burned her clothing _and_ eaten her food.

“Sire?”

Arthur drew his eyes away from the fire and to Sir Leon, his eyebrow raising when he saw what he held in his hand; it looked to be a white pillowcase with a length of rope tying it closed, though it was clear there were objects inside, but the most curious item was the sword he held. Standing, he crossed to Sir Leon and took it from him.

He’d honestly never seen anything like it and it truly was a masterpiece. The sword itself was lightweight and perfectly balanced, seeming to be made of a material he’d never before seen. The blade was silver and inscribed with ‘Godric Gryffindor’ on either side of the blade, and the hilt of the sword looked to be made of gold and upon closer inspection, he could see it had been carved with a roaring lion. Now, if that wasn’t impressive, a large ruby sat atop the hilt and two smaller ones sat on the right and left of the guard. It was a sword fit for a King.

“Is it hers?” Sir Brennis asked.

Arthur honestly wasn’t sure, but it had been found with her clothing and there didn’t appear to be anything else stolen from others the bandits may have come across. But if it was hers, why did she have it? Did she steal it? Or did it truly belong to her, in which, he was positive she’d be of nobility? The thought had his mouth twitching into a smile. One could hope.

“Did you find a necklace?” He asked, ignoring the previous question.

“I’ve got it,” Sir Geraint drew his attention, showing him the silver chain that hung from his fist, and from the distance Arthur noted that it looked similar to the earrings Hermione wore, so he was certain the necklace belonged to her, but the other items he’d have to ask after.

“Do what you can about with the cleanup and I’ll return to Merlin and Hermione and set up camp for the night.”

“Sire? _Who_ is she?” Sir Brennis asked, but again, it went unanswered.

Arthur collected the empty satchels, placed the pillowcase in one along with the necklace and he carried them and the sword back to his horse. He untied her and then mounted the saddle, leaving the three Knights behind as he returned to Hermione and Merlin. He hadn’t even been gone for half an hour.

It hadn’t taken him long to dispose of Hermione’s attackers, get her justice for what had been done to her, and ensure that she was protected against them and that they’d never be able to hurt anyone again. It had been a productive half an hour.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 10

“Merlin, where in God’s name is she? Don’t tell me you’ve lost her,” Arthur said, an unhappy look on his face as he approached his manservant to see him rummaging inside the saddlebag on his horse and he was alone.

“Arthur, what happened? Did you find them?”

“Merlin, where is she?” He questioned, his voice growing louder in annoyance.

“ _She_ has a name, thank you very much.”

Arthur turned his horse in the opposite direction and looked into the trees before a flash of red stepped into view. Hermione climbed down the small hill until she was stood on the pathway and she walked towards him, his cape wrapped around her so tightly it was a wonder she could breathe, let alone move.

Arthur dismounted his horse and tied her to a nearby tree before meeting Hermione halfway, stepping into her path and blocking the way so she couldn’t get past him. He reached up with his gloved hand, pressing it gently against her cheek as she stared up at him, blinking tiredly.

“I’m fine, Arthur,” she sighed. “I assure you, I’ve faced far worse injuries in my time.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” he admitted, his eyes locked with hers before he tore them away and he looked over his shoulder. “Merlin, gather firewood, we’ll set up camp here.”

“I thought you’d say that; I’ve already taken care of it,” Merlin grinned smugly, giving a pile of wood that lay on the ground a nudge with his foot.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Get a fire started and prepare dinner, we need to keep Hermione warm,” he said.

He turned back to the young woman before him and placed an arm around her shoulders, tugging her into his side and guiding her forward until they reached the fire pit Merlin had already had the thought to prepare. _He was learning_ , Arthur thought. Hermione sat herself on the ground and pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs and his cape wrapping around her a little tighter. Arthur sent Merlin a look that had the manservant quickly lighting the fire until flames danced across Hermione’s face and a sigh fell from her lips, her body tilting towards the warmth that the fire offered. 

Arthur observed her silently as he took a seat beside her, getting comfortable on the uneven ground and leaning back against the rotting tree log that was behind him. When the sound of voices and galloping horses filled the silence, Hermione startled, visibly jumping and he saw her hand moving beneath the cape as if she were reaching for a weapon.

“It’s just the Knights,” he explained.

Her eyes were locked on a spot in the distance and she didn’t nod, speak or move until she saw them, moving out of the darkness and into the firelight. The three Knights dismounted their horses and tended to them before taking seats around the fire, their eyes darting between him and Hermione, who was silent as she stared into the flames as if entranced by the movement.

“It has been taken care of, Sire,” Sir Leon spoke and Arthur gave him a single nod before his eyes darted back to Hermione.

“I’m to assume you found them,” she said softly.

“Yes,” Arthur responded.

“And?”

“You’re safe and they won’t hurt anyone else.”

Hermione let out a sigh and her head tilted to the side, leaning against the armoured plates on his shoulders. He realised he should’ve taken them off, it can’t have been comfortable for her but she didn’t complain.

“How many were there?”

“Seven by our count,”

Hermione’s brow furrowed before she gave her head a light shake. “I could’ve sworn there were eight of them but I suppose I was confused.”

“We need to tend to your wounds,” he told her.

“I’ll be fine, it’s just a scratch.”

“Hermione, is a scratch still not capable of becoming infected?”

She grumbled beneath her breath and his mouth twitched in amusement. “I swear, if you use my words against me again, _I’ll_ be the reason _you_ need a physician.”

He scowled at his Knights as they sniggered at her words and he turned his scowl towards Merlin when he snorted. Holding his hand out expectantly, Merlin rifled through the contents of the saddlebag that contained healing supplies and he passed Arthur some bandages, some healing paste and a cloth he’d already dampened with water.

“Don’t fight me, Hermione. I just want to take care of you,” he muttered, her not knowing or understanding how much he truly meant the words he spoke. He wasn’t even certain he understood it himself.

Sighing in defeat, Hermione pulled her head from his shoulder and she shuffled until she was facing him. Removing his gloves, he reached out with the cloth and carefully cleaned the cut on her forehead, wiping away the dirt and blood and then he applied some healing paste. Neither of them spoke as he did so and though Arthur was aware of the strange, surprised glances of his Knights, he ignored them, wanting to give Hermione his full attention. There was nothing that could be done for her lip and then his eyes darted down to her arm where he knew there to be a large bloodstain.

Arthur wasn’t quite sure what to do next as he was certain she’d struggle to tend to it herself, but it would be considered inappropriate for her to remove her clothing to give him access to the wounded area. It seemed Hermione didn’t share the same concerns as she folded her legs beneath her, released her grip on his cape and it fell off her shoulders and dropped into her lap. The moment she reached up to the buttons on her shirt, his eyes darted away from her and to Merlin and his Knights, glaring darkly in warning and they quickly turned their heads and averted their gazes, pretending to be interested and remarking on the oddly shaped leaves, twigs and broken logs that surrounded them.

His eyes returned to Hermione and his mouth went dry at the sight of the creamy skin of her collar bone and shoulder as she pushed the neck of the shirt down to reveal the wound on her arm. It was deeper than the one on her forehead, it looking to have been caused by a dagger or knife of some kind and he knew wounds such as that could be painful. He was at a loss, cuts and scrapes he could handle, but open wounds like that?

“Clean the area and bandage it up, it’s all that can be done with the limited supplies available,” Hermione instructed.

Taking a breath and nodding, Hermione twisted her body to give him better access and one hand came up to keep her steady, gently pressing against her shoulder and with the other he cleaned away the blood gently. Her skin was warm and soft beneath his hand and when she let out a hiss of pain, his thumb gently swiped across her shoulder in a soothing gesture. Once it was clean, he reached for the bandage and wrapped it around her arm, pausing briefly when he spied a burn scar not far above the wound and his eyes darted to her face which remained blank.

How had she gotten that? Who did it to her? Why did she have it? He knew these were questions she wasn’t likely to answer and despite his anger at seeing her harmed and marked in such a way, he remained quiet. After tucking the edge of the bandage into place, he pulled his hands back from her and threw the cloth to Merlin.

“We’ll make a physician out of you yet,” Hermione spoke, readjusting her shirt and fastening the buttons once more.

He did find it odd that she seemed to favour wearing shirts and breeches, clothing typically expected to be worn by men and he wondered why that was. He wondered why he’d never seen her in a dress as was expected of women unless they were travelling long distance and even then he knew them to have dresses for such occasions.

His eyes carefully scanned her form, searching for any injuries he may have missed and spying the leaves and debris in her wild hair, his mouth twitched into a smile and he reached out, tugging and pulling them free. When done, he chuckled at the way she scowled and she reached up, her hands running through her hair which only seemed to make it bushier and wilder. It was so different from the perfectly brushed and styled hair he was used to seeing on women, particularly the visiting nobles and Princesses, and he found he quite liked it.

“Did you find my belongings?” She asked, pulling his cape over her shoulders once more to protect her against the chill in the air.

“They ate your food and burned your clothing, including your cloak,” he told her softly.

He’d expected her to be devastated at the news, he’d seen how terrifying Morgana could be if one of her favourite dresses was accidentally ruined or went ‘missing’, which just meant it was either being washed or she hadn’t looked for it properly, but Hermione merely nodded.

“I’m not surprised,” she replied. “They seemed like the lazy kind, why search for firewood when you have clothing that burns just as well? That was everything I had so I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet, but I’ll think of something. Did you find my necklace?”

“Among other things,” he responded, and seeing her curiously raised eyebrow, he nodded to Sir Leon and the Knight stood and moved to Arthur’s mare, removing the two satchels and the sword.

The moment her eyes landed on the sword, she seemed to forget about the bags as her mouth parted and a gasp left her.

“I completely forgot,” she said, sounding horrified. “They took the sword. How did I forget that?” She muttered to herself.

She held her hand out expectantly and Sir Leon looked to him questioningly and he nodded, giving him permission to give it to her. He watched as she accepted the sword and held it delicately with it resting on the palms of her hands, her eyes carefully searching for what he could only assume was any damage caused to it, but the way she let out a sigh of relief let him know it was how it should be.

“Is it yours?” Sir Brennis asked her.

Hermione’s eyes darted to him suspiciously and Arthur realised that he hadn’t yet introduced his Knights, so it was understandable she’d be suspicious of them no matter of the fact they were with him. 

“Hermione, this is Sir Brennis, Sir, Geraint and Sir Leon, they are Knights of Camelot,” he introduced.

Hermione tilted her head, a friendly smile tugging at her mouth. “It’s a pleasure to be _finally_ introduced to you,” she said, sending him an amused look whilst the others sniggered and he scowled at her teasing.

“Why would this sword not be mine? Was it not found with my belongings?” She asked.

“It is very clear the sword is made for nobility. I have never seen such craftsmanship or detail.”

Hermione pursed her lips thoughtfully.

“ _Is_ it yours, Hermione? Does it belong to another?” Arthur asked.

“It’s not mine, not really, but I didn’t steal it,” she answered. “It belonged to someone of great importance and I was given it for safekeeping.”

His eyes darted down to the inscription -a name, he realised- as she settled the sword on the ground beside her.

“And my necklace?”

Sir Leon nodded and reached inside the satchel and removed the silver chain. Arthur hadn’t gotten a clear look at it before but now he could see that it was a silver locket. _Definitely_ not something a poor villager would have.

“Thank you,” she said, gratefully taking it from the Knight and she grasped it in her closed fist tightly. “It was my mother’s.”

“Where are your parents, Hermione?” He asked, having realised she’d been using past terms, not present.

“Dead,” she answered, her face blank and voice emotionless and he found himself blinking, having not expected such an answer. “They were killed almost two years ago.”

“Why?”

“I left my Kingdom as we were in times of war, my parents were killed by our enemies,” she said, and then she changed the subject. “Sir Leon, is there anything else in the bag?”

Nodding, the Knight reached inside and removed the final item, the pillowcase. Hermione’s eyes widened, a horrified look crossing her face.

“No! I had no idea they’d fallen out,” she said, reaching out and all but snatching the pillowcase from Sir Leon, surprising them all by her actions.

“What’s inside, Hermione?” Arthur asked, not feeling pleased by the horrified look on her face as she held the pillowcase with the tips of her fingers, as if she were afraid to touch it.

“A part of my past I wish I could put behind me but it will forever haunt me,” she replied quietly, seeming to break out of a trance and she placed the pillowcase on the ground behind her, out of reach but not out of sight.

When Arthur glanced over to Merlin, his manservant had his hand hovering over the pot on the fire pit, seeming to have paused in his adding of ingredients to the stew he was preparing. But the way in which Merlin looked at Hermione, in sadness and understanding, had Arthur believing that Merlin knew far more than he realised and he reminded himself to talk to his manservant when he next had the chance.

Hermione fell silent and Arthur’s attention darted between her, Merlin and his three Knights as they conversed amongst themselves, and soon a bowl of stew was held out to Hermione.

“No, thank you, Merlin. I’m not hungry.”

“Hermione, you need to eat,” Arthur said with a disapproving look. “Merlin’s not the best cook but you still need to eat. You’ve lost a lot of blood from that wound on your arm, you need to keep your strength up.”

“As I said, we’ll make a physician out of you yet,” she responded, accepting the bowl and spoon from Merlin.

Arthur felt his mouth pulled into a smile at not only her comment but when she tried her first spoonful of the stew and a grimace pulled at her mouth. The group of six ate their meals with little fuss though Arthur noticed that Hermione had barely eaten half of her own meal, but given she’d at least eaten some of it, he didn’t mention it.

Whilst the rest of the group conversed Hermione stared into the dancing flames, the light reflecting off her pale skin and her eyes shining in the dark. Her hair surrounded her in a wild mass of curls and she sat with his cape wrapped around her small body, taking comfort in the warmth it offered her. Arthur admitted to himself that the red and gold colouring of his House suited her well.

The night was growing late and when the conversations began to settle as everyone prepared to get some sleep, a sudden vicious snarling had them all on high alert, himself, his three Knights and Merlin all springing to their feet, their eyes searching in the darkness for the one responsible. Arthur just hoped it wasn’t a magical being.

The snarling grew louder, as if it were getting closer and Arthur pulled his sword, positioning himself so Hermione was behind him, still sat on the ground and looking as though she were in a world of her own.

As the creature stepped out of the darkness and into the firelight, Arthur’s eyes widened not at the sight of a magical being, but a large, feral looking wolf with dark-silver fur, the chest and mouth stained with blood. He knew wolves were an uncommon sight around the Kingdoms or Camelot and Essetir, as they were hunted for their meat and fur, so for one to be stood before him was surprising. Had he ever actually seen a wolf in his twenty-one years of existence?

He gripped his sword tightly and raised it, preparing to strike the wolf down should it try to attack him and a brief glance to his Knights showed they’d done the same, eyeing the wolf as if it were an unpredictable, vicious wild animal, which, of course, it was.

The wolf took a threatening step forward, its ears flat against its head, its sharp teeth bared, its body lowered and looking as though it were about to pounce. The wolf’s eyes seemed to move to Hermione and it took another step forward, Arthur’s heart pounding in his chest as he shifted his weight, trying to conceal her with his body and at the action, the wolf released a snarl so loud and terrifying, fear spike through him and Hermione was startled, a little noise of surprise leaving her.

“What....” She trailed off.

He glanced behind him, seeing her wide eyes locked on the wolf, her mouth falling open and her hand coming up to her mouth, a gasp leaving her.

The wolf took another step forward and Arthur adjusted his stance, preparing to make the first move if it came any closer, which it did and just as Arthur brought his sword down, Hermione shouted,

“No, don’t! Don’t hurt him! Stop!”

Arthur startled and paused with his sword mid-air, sharing a quick glance with the others, all of them wondering the same thing. How hard had she hit her head?

“Don’t hurt him!”

“Hermione....” He started but much to his surprise, she leapt to her feet, pushing his cape off her shoulders and it fell to the ground as she stepped in front of him.

She turned to face him, her back to the wolf and she raised her hand, placing it against his arm and gently pushing down until he automatically followed the movement and lowered his sword, his confused gaze locked on hers.

“I promise, Arthur, he’s not a threat.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond to that and she didn’t give him a chance as she turned away from him and then knelt on the ground, her attention solely on the snarling wolf.

“They’re not going to harm me,” Hermione said softly and she reached her hand out towards the wolf.

Arthur stepped forward with the intention to pull her back to her feet and behind him, but the strangest thing happened and it had him pausing and sharing a surprised, bemused look with the four men. 

“Akela,” she said softly. “They are not going to harm me, come here,” she instructed.

Much to their surprise –or horror, they weren’t quite sure- the wolf instantly stopped snarling, its body relaxed and it rose to full height, approaching Hermione with its tail swishing as it walked and its tongue hanging out of the side of its mouth, as if it were a happy, playful puppy.

Arthur wasn’t quite sure how he didn’t fall to the ground in surprise, maybe it was because he was using his sword as a crutch to keep him upright, but when the wolf reached Hermione, it sat down in front of her and lowered its head as Hermione raised her hand and scratched the large, wild animal behind the ears, its tail wagging –yes, wagging!- happily.

“Where have you been, Akela?” Hermione said softly. “Did you catch the rabbit? And where did all of this blood come from?” She asked, as if the large animal would be able to answer her. “Never mind, I’m just glad you’re back,” she sighed, her head tilting forward until it pressed against the wolf’s fur, the wolf letting out a strange humming-growl as if it were content to be cuddled by the pretty young woman.

“Hermione?” Merlin called. “An explanation would be greatly appreciated.”

She pulled back from the wolf, rising to her feet and moving to retake her previous seat on the ground, pulling his cape around her form once more and Arthur stiffened when the large wolf brushed past him and followed after Hermione, dropping down onto its stomach and resting its head on its paws.

“You can sit down, he won’t hurt you. He thought you were a threat, he was just protecting me,” she told them.

Slowly and one by one, they each retook their seats as they kept their eyes on the wolf and their swords in their hands and Arthur was sure to sit a little farther away from Hermione than he had before.

“The wolf?” Sir Leon prompted, his look of surprise being replaced by intrigue and amusement at the way the large animal rolled on its back and wriggled as if trying to scratch an itch against the ground.

Arthur, not being sure how to process what he was witnessing, just blinked. He was getting a headache.

“I happened upon him injured in the woods and I was able to distract him with food and water whilst I healed him. He ran off and the next morning I saw him watching me, so I left food and water out. He kept coming back and then he started following me when I was in the woods, and before I knew it, he was sleeping in my home by the side of my bed. He sometimes disappears for a few days while he’s hunting food but he always comes back. He spotted a rabbit not long before I fell into the path of the bandits, if he had been with me he would have protected me the best he could,” she explained, reaching out to run her hand through the wolf’s fur as it rolled back onto its stomach. “Wolves are intelligent animals, from what I’ve been able to gather, he understands most of what I say to him. He’ll eat food out of my hand, he’s house trained and he loves cuddles.”

“That’s strange,” Sir Geraint commented, eyeing the wolf cautiously.

“Is it?” She questioned. “Aren’t dogs but domesticated wolves? I hadn’t intended to form such a bond with Akela, I’d only wished to help him, to stop his suffering. I had no idea he’d bond with me in the way he has. I can’t seem to get rid of him, not that I’d want to, I don’t know what I’d do without him,” she smiled down at the wolf softly and as if proving he understood every word she spoke, the wolf let out a bark. “We’ve been together four months now, and he’s grown remarkably. From what I can tell, he’s still quite young, maybe a year or so in age.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow when the wolf slowly crawled forward on its stomach and it nudged at her bowl of half-eaten stew, sniffing at it curiously and then pulling back as if it’d been burned.

Laughter burst from Hermione and she shook her head. “I’m sorry, Merlin, but Akela doesn’t seem to approve of your cooking, and he eats raw meat and dead animal carcasses,” she laughed, Arthur seeing his three Knights sniggering and his own mouth pulled into a smile when Merlin scowled at her.

Watching the large wolf roll onto its back once more to scratch it against the ground with strange grunting-snorts leaving it, he felt himself relaxing as he tried to process the idea of a vicious, wild animal doing such a strangely humorous act. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to it.

And though he should be surprised at the bond between the pretty physician and the wild wolf, he wasn’t. Hermione was a truly incredible woman and with each meeting and new fact learned about her, to him, she became even more so.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 10

"Sire? Sire?"

Arthur startled awake, his face instantly being assaulted by a huge mass of hair and feeling a body pressed against his. His eyes opened and he lifted his head, looking down at himself in surprise. Hermione was lying in front of him and facing in the opposite direction, his cape wrapped around her like a cocoon and her head lying atop her empty satchels. He was laid behind her, his chest pressed against her back and his arm hooked over her waist, holding her to him gently. The fact he'd taken off his armour and chainmail before sleeping meant he could feel her smaller body fitting against his perfectly and he could feel the heat radiating off her.

He wasn't even sure how he'd found himself in such a position. He remembered Hermione being the first to fall asleep and he'd been the last, and though he'd laid down beside her, it seems he had obviously moved closer to her in his sleep.

"Sire?"

He heard a snigger and Arthur blinked away the sleep from his eyes, realising that daylight had returned and his three Knights were already awake and watching him in amusement.

"That is highly improper," Sir Leon teased with a smirk.

Arthur scowled. "She is small, she needs to be kept warm," he defended, smirks pulling at their faces at his excuse.

"You don't have to explain to us, Sire," Sir Brennis said. "Rather, I would be more worried about him," he gestured to the left with a wiggle of his index finger and an amused smile on his face.

Following the direction, Arthur found his gaze locking with the narrowed, bright blue eyes of Hermione's _pet_ wolf. He was laid by the smoking fire pit on his stomach, his head resting against his paws and his sole focus was on him, specifically, how close he was to Hermione. Arthur had honestly never met an animal more protective of a human. And he certainly hadn't known wolves were capable of narrowing their eyes as much as he was doing at that moment.

Slowly, he sat up and removed his arm from around Hermione, ignoring the way he seemed to miss the heat, the feel of her body pressed against his. Apparently seeming to be happy with his actions, the wolf crawled forward on his stomach until he reached Hermione, he nudged at her shoulder gently with his nose and he licked her cheek with his large tongue. Hermione let out an adorable sleepy noise and she shifted in her sleep, her arm broke free of his cape and she raised it, hooking it over the wild animal, burying her face against his fur and snuggling against him. The wolf let out an almost purring sound before licking her hand and closing his eyes.

Arthur stared, unsure of how to feel or respond to such a sight.

"Sire, if we wish to return to Camelot before nightfall, we must leave," Sir Geraint informed him.

Knowing he was right, Arthur nodded his head and climbed to his feet, reaching for his discarded chainmail and armour.

"I am aware, Sir Geraint. Ensure everything is packed away and ready for our leaving. We shall allow Hermione to rest a little longer until then."

Nodding, his Knights shared a glance and then turned their attention to readying for their return to Camelot. Arthur, not wanting to wake Hermione, quietly reached for the pillowcase, staring at it intently and wondering what secrets it held. He also retrieved the beautifully crafted sword –and reminded himself to ask Hermione if she knew who was responsible for such work- before he secured them both to his mare's saddlebag.

He and his companions rotated taking turns to go about their business and visit the nearby stream, taking their horses and allowing them to drink their fill as well as refilling their water skins. When Arthur returned to the packed up campsite, his men were preparing to mount their horses and Hermione was gone.

"She's fine," Merlin spoke before he'd even been given chance to ask where she was or reprimand them for losing her. "She woke after you left and needed a little privacy, her wolf is with her so I doubt she'll get into too much trouble."

His attention was pulled by the rustling of leaves being stood on and he looked to see Hermione stumbling out from the trees and towards the path, almost slipping down the little hill she had to climb down.

She lost her balance and tipped forward and luckily he'd been close enough to prevent her from falling. She had an annoyed look on her face as she stared down to her feet and Arthur's gaze followed, a questioning look appearing on his face when he noticed she was bearing all of her weight on her right foot.

"What happened?" He frowned.

Her head lifted and she turned to look over her shoulder, glaring at a point in the distance. "I fell into a rabbit hole," she said, her annoyance evidenced by the slight grumble in her voice. "And I hope it was the rabbit Akela ate," she said meanly and he found himself snorting in amusement until her eyes snapped to him and he was the focus of her ire. "It's not funny, I hurt my ankle, I think it's twisted."

Thankfully, he was saved as her wolf made an appearance, unfortunately, he spooked the horses and Arthur had to rush over to his mare to try and calm her, the rest of his travelling companions doing the same. The horses had already been sleeping when then wolf had approached the night before and he was far away enough from them earlier that morning that they either hadn't seen him as a threat or hadn't noticed him at all. But after a little while, they'd managed to settle the horses and they each mounted theirs, only waiting on himself and Hermione.

As they didn't have a spare horse and he knew there was nowhere they'd be able to buy one, and really, there was no point in doing so giving it would only take a day's ride to reach Camelot, Arthur had every intention of sitting Hermione on his mare with him. The thought of allowing her to ride with another had his stomach twisting in a way he didn't like, so, it was best to avoid it.

Looking over to her, she was stood with his cape folded neatly and resting over her arm as they were crossed over her chest and she was staring down at her injured ankle in annoyance. His mouth pulled into a smile but he quickly covered it, not wanting to face her wrath. Surprisingly, -given how kind he knew her to be- her glare was quite terrifying.

"Hermione," He called her name, pulling her attention.

She looked to him, his hand which he held out towards her and then to his horse, her eyes widening slightly in understanding.

"We have a little bit of a problem," she said, her folded arms dropping and she clutched his cape between her clasped hands.

"And that would be?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, I've never ridden a horse," she admitted, looking embarrassed.

"I beg your pardon?" He responded, blinking slowly.

"I've never ridden a horse," she repeated.

"I thought I'd heard you correctly," he said, looking to her strangely. How had she never ridden a horse? He'd seen that Ealdor had horses. And surely her Kingdom had them, too.

"I had no need to in Ealdor and we didn't use horses in Hogwarts, we had other means of travel."

"Meaning?" He asked, partially surprised and partially intrigued.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she muttered, piquing his intrigued further but he knew she wouldn't explain any more than she already had.

"You'll be fine," he replied with a reassuring smile.

She didn't look convinced but she limped forward, sending a quick glare to her injured foot before returning her gaze to him. However, before she placed her hand in his, she unfolded his cape and reached up, placing it over his shoulders and fastening it into place around his neck. She nodded, satisfied that it wasn't going to fall off and then placed her hand in his gloved one as he slowly led her forward, being mindful of her injury.

He sensed her nervousness when they reached his mare and he knew it would be a little more difficult than normal as she couldn't bear weight on the injured foot, but after instructing her to pull herself up using her grip on the saddle and reins, he placed his hands on her hips and gave her the lift she needed to swing her leg over the horse. Once he was sure she was in place, he quickly mounted the horse behind her, his hands reaching for the reins, caging her body in-between his arms with her back pressed to his chest.

He wasn't going to complain. Though, it would be difficult to see given the size of Hermione's hair and seeming to know this, too, she removed a tie from around her wrist and reached up, securing her hair into a knot on top of her head, it being pulled back from her face and it no longer obstructing his view. Well, that was a style he'd never seen before; maybe it was a custom of those from her Kingdom. He'd already come to understand they were _very_ different from Camelot, especially with the celebrating of magic and the no use of horses.

"Ready?" He asked, a smile tugging at his mouth when he saw her shiver as he spoke against her ear.

"Akela?" She called softly, looking down at the wolf and not acknowledging his close proximity. "Are you ready?" She asked the wolf.

No longer being surprised at the way the wolf understood her, he didn't react when the large wolf let out a bark before he turned and headed down the path, walking ahead of the rest of them.

"He'll take the lead and alert us to anything we need to be aware of," she said. "He won't go far, unless he spots a rabbit that is, they're his weakness. Rabbits and surprisingly he likes cheese, too."

A laugh escaped him before he turned the horse and walked past the rest of his travel companions, taking up the mantle of the leader of the group.

~000~000~000~

"How long are you staying in Camelot?" He found himself asking.

They'd journeyed a half a day's ride and in that time, they'd made a few stops to allow the horses to rest and be watered and to have a quick meal of bread and cheese, before continuing on with their journey.

The journey had been uneventful and Arthur had found himself relaxing, no longer needing to be on his guard as he knew Hermione's wolf would alert them to trouble, in fact, he'd brought attention to two men who were travelling in the opposite direction and although they hadn't been a threat, he'd appreciated it all the same. The wolf was smart, he realised, _very_ smart.

Hermione kept his attention, either engaging him in conversation or quizzing him on the history of Camelot, which he thought a little odd as no one _ever_ asked him such questions, but he reminded himself of how intelligent she was and he soon understood she had an interest in learning, no matter the topic. She'd inquired about the reasoning behind the outlawing of magic and he told her what he knew as honestly as he could, and she'd asked about Gwen, too, which was _definitely_ an odd topic of conversation.

If she wasn't talking to him, she was conversing with Merlin who seemed to have finally gotten control over his horse as he rode beside them, that was, until, Arthur grew tired of his manservant's laugh and he lightly kicked his horse, gaining a bit of speed to leave him behind. But more often than not, they rode in silence, the sound of the horses' hooves against the ground, the conversations happening behind him and Hermione's gentle humming surrounding him, he was certain she wasn't even aware she was doing it.

"I'm not sure," she answered. "I prepared Ealdor for my leaving."

"Prepared?" He questioned, sitting a little taller, his back pressing against her chest further.

"I've trained two apprentices to be the village's physicians. They were devastated that I left, Elisa cried for hours and Tobyn reminded me of our marriage arrangement should I still be unmarried when he reaches the age of maturity," she said, sounding both amused and guilty.

"You are not going back?" He said, trying to keep the hope he felt at that moment from spilling into his voice.

"No, I've done all I can for them and they don't need me anymore. It's time I moved on and found others that need my help. I promised both you and Merlin I'd visit Camelot and this time I'll have the opportunity to see the city without the risk of being captured and executed for breaking into the castle and the Prince's chambers," she replied.

He laughed. " _How_ did you do that?"

"If I told you I'd have to kill you," she said and he snorted. "I'm not quite sure how long I'll stay, it depends on whether or not I believe I've found somewhere I wish to call home. As much as I loved Ealdor, it wasn't my home, not truly. Maybe Camelot will be that for me."

Arthur truly hoped it would be and if he had his way, he'd make sure she thrived in Camelot, that she accomplished everything she wished to. Camelot was beautiful and peaceful, richer than most but he knew that not every citizen had a plentiful life; he knew there were poor, hungry people, especially in the lower parts of the city. He did what he could for them, bargained with his father and their councillors to offer better care, but until he was King, his hands were tied.

~000~000~000~

Night had fallen and as they drew nearer to the city gates, Arthur's arm tightened around Hermione's stomach automatically.

They'd stopped twice more during their journey and the last time, Hermione had fallen down _another_ rabbit hole –they'd all dealt with her displeasure, his Knights all but cowering when she turned a murderous glare their way for laughing at her- and injured her ankle further and now she struggled to walk.

As night crept in, the wind picked up and a chill settled in the air, Arthur had pulled his cape to cover Hermione's shivering form, her only being clad in her shirt and breeches after the loss of her clothing. The thick fabric as well as being so close to him, had aided in fighting off the chill as she buried her hands in the fabric and kept it tucked against her. Not long later, she'd fallen asleep –which he knew can't have been comfortable for her- with her body twisted in such a way that her shoulder was pressed against his chest and her head was tilted, her cheek pressing against the armour of his shoulder. Wishing to prevent her from falling, his arm had wrapped around her waist and was resting against her stomach over the fabric of his cape. He knew he'd received strange, amused glances from his companions but he'd diligently ignored them, refusing to comment on the matter. That had been an hour ago.

He halted to a stop before the gates and he cast a glance down to the large wolf that had narrowed eyes as he visibly sniffed at the air.

"You don't have to follow us," he spoke, feeling ridiculous for talking to the wild animal as if it would understand him, but if he knew what Hermione was saying, logic dictated he'd understand him, too.

The wolf lifted his head, giving him a look that all but said he wasn't leaving Hermione alone without his protection and though he still thought it odd, he marvelled at the loyalty and protectiveness of the wolf given that it was willing to leave the comfort of the wild, his natural habitat, and follow her into the city.

"Very well," he said, "Stay at my side," he instructed before gently kicking his horse and she moved forward.

The guards at the entrance gates barely gave them a second look except for nodding their heads and bowing, chorusing a 'Sire,' as they passed, the horses hiding the large wolf at his side.

As expected of the late hour, the city was quiet and they crossed paths with no one as they made their way to the castle. When they stepped through the castle gates and into the courtyard and the torches lighting up the area, he was surprised to see his father stood by the entrance doors, looking as regal and commanding as always.

The guards in the courtyard, all noticing the large wolf, pulled their swords and held them at the ready. Several of them slowly approached, their weapons raised in preparation to strike it down and the wolf lowered into a threatening, defensive stance, his ears flat against his head, his teeth bared and loud, vicious snarls of warning leaving him.

"Enough!" Arthur's voice rang clear in the courtyard. "No harm is to come to the wolf."

"Sire?" An armoured guard questioned confused.

"No harm is to come to the wolf," he repeated, his voice loud for all to hear. "He is only protecting his Lady. If you do not harm her, he will not harm you. Tell all the guards, Knights, cooks, handmaidens, manservants, anyone one in the castle, leave the wolf alone and he shall not bother you. He is of no threat to your safety unless you make it so. Is that understood?"

"Sire," a chorus sounded as the guards slowly, cautiously lowered their swords and stowed them away.

"Thank you," he heard Hermione mutter and he peered down at her, seeing that her eyes were still closed and she still looked to be sleeping.

"I mean it, Hermione, you are both safe here, so long as my father is on the throne and I am the heir and crown Prince, you will face no threat," he replied softly,

He unwound his arm from around her, unclasped his cape so he wouldn't injure himself or pull her off when he dismounted his horse, and very carefully, he reached up, pulling her still half-asleep form off the horse and into his arms. Seeing as she didn't protest, move or that she couldn't walk anyway, he saw no point in putting her on the ground, so he walked away from his horse as a guard tended to her, and made his way towards the entrance doors with Hermione in his arms, her head tilted and pressing against his shoulder as she breathed slowly and deeply.

"Father," Arthur greeted, halting on the steps below the King of Camelot.

His father raised an eyebrow, his eyes carefully scanning Hermione's sleeping face and then her being carried in his arms.

"We have a discussion to be had."

"Of course, Father," he agreed. "But first I must take Hermione to Gaius, she was injured and we had limited supplies, and this morning she hurt her ankle and is unable to walk."

His father eyed him carefully. "Very well, I shall be in the throne room, do not keep me waiting long."

"Father," he tipped his head in acknowledgement before climbing the remaining steps and quickly making his way through the castle and to the physician's chambers.

Arthur realised that with Hermione in his arms, she was far too light for what she should be, but then he remembered that Ealdor was a poor village with little resources even before Kanan had terrorised them. Four months was not enough time to build up their stores and that meant her food intake wouldn't have increased, which is why she felt too light. Looking down at her face in the flickering light of the torches that lit the way, he could still see that her eyes were slightly sunken and her cheekbones were sticking out a little too much, even as the curls that had sprung free of the restraint tried to cover it.

When he reached his destination, he kicked on the door twice and it soon opened, Gaius' raised eyebrow –intentional or not, he wasn't certain- greeting him.

"Well, this is unexpected," Gaius commented, opening the door wider and stepping back to allow him access into the room.

Crossing through the doorway, he headed for the closest cot and gently set Hermione down, readjusting his cape so it better covered her frame.

Hearing a noise of surprise and a table being knocked into with the items on the surface rattling, Arthur sent Gaius a threatening look when Hermione shifted at the sound. Seeing the large wolf step into the room and Gaius' eyes trained on it in terror, Arthur's mouth twitched in amusement, wondering if his expression had been the same the night before.

"He belongs to Hermione."

"Sire?" Gaius questioned quietly, as if not wanting to draw the wolf's attention to himself.

"He is Hermione's," he replied. "If you don't give him reason to harm you, he won't. I have learned that if he is left alone, he is quiet and all but invisible."

"And what reason would I give it to harm me?"

"If he believes you are a threat to Hermione, he will protect her."

Gaius cleared his throat and slowly approached the cot to stand beside him, one eye still trained on the wolf stood by the door with narrowed eyes.

"What happened?" He asked, seeing the dried healing paste on Hermione's forehead from the second coating they'd placed on it earlier in the day.

"She was attacked by the bandits we left in search of. Her forehead appears to be healing as it should but her right arm is more of an issue. She was cut by a knife or dagger, all we had was water and bandages. She instructed me on what to do but I'm certain it will need taking care of. This morning she fell down a rabbit hole and injured her ankle and earlier during the day she did so again. She's been unable to walk on it and I believe she said it was swollen."

Looking down at the sleepy young woman, Arthur found that he didn't want to leave her but he knew he couldn't keep his father waiting.

"I shall leave her in your capable hands as I must speak with my father, but I will be back in the morning to check on her progress. The wolf will stay by her side; she said he is house trained so if he wishes to be outdoors, I'm certain he'll let you know. Take good care of her Gaius," Arthur spoke, his final words being an order, not a suggestion.

He turned on his heel and headed for the door but as he passed the wolf, he froze when the wolf lifted his head to brush against the back of his hand. Looking down at the wolf, his eyes widened in surprise when he nudged at his hand like a dog wanting attention and as he'd seen Hermione do, he slowly raised his hand, placing it on the wolf's large head, his fingers carding through his thick soft fur as he gave him a scratch.

The wolf pulled back, licked at his hand and then walked towards Hermione's cot, sitting down beside her like a bodyguard and watching Gaius' every step. Bemused with the behaviour of the wolf, Arthur felt a smile tug at his mouth. Well, it seemed the overprotective wild animal approved of him.

As he contemplated what that may mean, the smile didn't leave his face until he reached the throne room and the guards pulled the large doors open to allow him entrance. When he stepped inside, the torches lit the room with glowing fire and his father was the only one present as he sat on his throne.

"How was your mission?" The King asked.

"Successful, Father. We learned there was a group of seven bandits, we found their camp and ensured they will no longer be an issue."

"And the girl?"

Arthur felt his breath leave him. What was he going to tell his father? The truth, he supposed.

"Her name is Hermione. We found her on the path to Camelot. She was attacked by the bandits and left without her belongings and injured."

"I have spoken with Sirs Leon, Brennis and Geraint, Arthur," his father informed him. "They have told me of your protectiveness of the girl, of your anger to her having been injured. They have told me that you already knew who she was when you found her."

Arthur's finger tapped nervously against the hilt of his sword as he replied, "That is true, Father. I first met Hermione when I travelled to the village of Ealdor to aid with the ridding of the bandits."

His father gave him a knowing look. "And you have fallen for her, have you not?"

Arthur pursed his lips. "No, Father."

"I do not believe you," he sighed.

"I do not _love_ , Hermione."

"No, but you are _fond_ of her, incredibly so I would say, given the account of events from the Knights. I have seen you refuse a marriage offer many a time over the years, Arthur, but since you have returned from Ealdor, I have witnessed a change in you and I believe I now know why and what the cause may be. You know you cannot marry a commoner, Arthur. You are the Prince of Camelot."

"I know, Father, but Hermione...I do not believe she is a poor villager. She was not born to Ealdor but had only been there a year before we met. She is incredibly intelligent, she was teaching the children to read and write, and she was the villager's physician."

"A _woman_ physician?" His father questioned, looking quite amused by the notion.

"Yes, Father. I've been under her care and she is truly brilliant. I've witnessed her practices and healing methods, some of which I have never seen Gaius use. She was able to seal Merlin's sword inflicted wound without cauterisation, she stitched it back together like a seamstress would a dress. I witnessed her pull a man back from death, he had an arrow in his back but she did not give up and she worked tirelessly to save him."

"Is that so?" He muttered thoughtfully.

"Yes, she is too well educated and too well-spoken to have been born and raised in a village. She wears silver in her ears and around her neck. Her clothes, despite being odd, are of a good quality."

His father shifted in his seat before he reached down and behind his throne, the gold, silver and rubies glinting in the firelight as his father held Hermione's sword in his hand.

"And what of this?"

"It is Hermione's."

"Are you positive she did not steal it?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"She said it wasn't stolen but that it was given to her for safekeeping. She said it once belonged to a very important man."

"Arthur, this is not the sword of a villager, this is not the sword of a guard," he said and Arthur nodded in agreement. "Nor is this a sword of a nobleman, this, I am certain, is a sword for a _King_. Why would a young woman have such a weapon? It is clear this sword is priceless and has been crafted in a way I have never before seen. You say she was not born of Ealdor, what do you know of her past?"

Arthur pursed his lips in thought, recalling all of his memories. "I do not know much, Father," he responded. "She doesn't wish to speak of it. From what I have learned, she belonged to the Kingdom of Hogwarts."

"I have never heard of such a Kingdom."

"No, but she says it is a three month's journey to reach their territory. She was friends with the children of a Lord and Lady Weasley and she says they raised her as part of their family, along with her friend who has now taken the mantle of Lord Potter. She has said that her Kingdom was in times of war and that is why she left. That is all I know. I believe that she is..."

"Arthur, you know what is expected of you," the King interrupted.

"But, Father..."

"Why are so fond of this girl? So much so, that you are unable to consider the marriage offers of others that will seal alliances and bring prosperity to Camelot."

"I'm not sure I can adequately explain it, but if you speak with her for yourself, I suspect you will understand."

His father eyed him cautiously before nodding. "Very well, bring her to me."

"She is being treated by Gaius, I shall bring her to you tomorrow."

"I look forward to hearing what this woman has to say. You may go, Arthur."

"Goodnight, Father," Arthur tipped his head and turned on his heel to leave the room.

He wasn't sure if he should be relieved or worried.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 11

What was she going to do?

Hermione had no idea why the King of Camelot would wish to seek an audience with her, but when Arthur had arrived at Gaius' chambers first thing in the morning to see her awake and eating breakfast, he'd given her a dazzling smile and sat opposite her at the small table she occupied.

He'd inquired about her condition and he'd been surprised when he'd witnessed her walking, albeit with a slight limp, which was a massive improvement compared to the day before. Gaius hadn't been there, in fact, she had no idea where he was, or Merlin for that matter, so she'd discharged herself from his care and Arthur had accompanied her to the throne room, slowing his pace so she may keep up with him.

She hadn't seen her wolf since she'd woken up either but she'd known he was there the previous night. She remembered being partially awake and feeling the cold nose of her wolf pressed against her hand, so given his disappearance, she assumed he'd gone for a wander of the castle grounds or he was maybe hunting a rabbit or two.

"You shouldn't be nervous," Arthur commented after noticing how she was fiddling with her fingers as a distraction.

"For a reason, I'm unaware of, your father, the _King_ , wishes to speak with me. Not only am I not prepared for anything he may wish to discuss but I'm not presentable enough to stand before a King," she responded, bringing attention to the clothing she'd been wearing for the last couple of days, of which were dirty, had blood stains and one or two tears. Her hair had been pulled back from her once more and tied into a knot on top of her head, her face uncovered by her wild curls.

Arthur supposed she had a point and though he knew her clothing wouldn't distract from her beauty or personality, he realised that he should've visited with Morgana earlier that morning and asked if she'd lend Hermione a dress until more could be acquired for her.

"There is nothing for you to be worried about, Hermione. Just be yourself and be honest to anything he may ask of you and it will be over before you know it."

"That's comforting," she muttered. She knew his intentions had been to calm but he'd actually done the opposite and made things worse.

They approached large doors which reminded her very much of the great hall doors at Hogwarts and just before they came to a stop before them, Arthur's hand reached out, slipped around hers to stop her from fiddling with her fingers and he gave her a comforting squeeze and then he released her hand before anyone could see.

Hermione knew she really shouldn't encourage any behaviour that would allow him to believe she welcomed his touch, especially when she ought to be figuring out why Arthur and Gwen weren't falling for one another like they were supposed to and as she tried to nudge him in Gwen's direction, but right now, his actions did give her comfort and she was appreciative of it.

The two guards clad in their uniform tipped their heads in greeting, chorusing a "Sire" and bowing as they pulled open the doors, revealing a large room that held stone walls and high arched ceilings. Peculiarly, the floors were wooden, torches littered the walls and had yet to be lit as the huge arched windows allowed plenty of natural light to fill the room, and the Pendragon red and gold tapestries hung from the ceilings and walls.

What drew her attention were the three chairs at the end of the room, sat on a raised platform and looking out over the rest of the room. The chair in the middle was by far the largest and made with what looked to be red velvet cushioning on the backrest and seat and the throne itself looked to have been painted with a bronze-gold finishing. The second chair on the right, although slightly smaller, was still quite impressive and the third and final chair on the left was the smallest yet and looked to be more bronze than gold.

Her eyes quickly darted about the room, taking in the number of exits and how many people there were present, by her count, no more than twelve including herself. There were eight guards positioned in the room, two by the great doors, two at the back of the room behind the raised platform and two stood against the walls on either side of the room positioned in the centre. The final three bodies were Merlin who was stood behind the second-largest chair and he gave her an encouraging smile and a thumbs up that was so quick she nearly missed it, Arthur who was walking beside her and the final man sat on the largest chair, the throne. King Uther.

She could see he was handsome, even as age was beginning to show itself with wrinkles and greying-brown hair. His dark blue eyes observed her carefully and quietly as she approached, his darkly gloved hands either resting on the armrest of his throne or being positioned over his mouth as though he were thoughtful. He wore a combination of browns and reds with cashmere coloured boots, wide silver cuff bracelets and a chain hung around his neck with a large circular pendant hanging down. Fastened and clasped around his neck was the same red cape she'd seen Arthur and the Knights wearing. He was imposing and regal and despite there being similarities with his mouth and nose, Hermione thought Arthur most likely had inherited his mother's genes, with the blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

Hermione felt a gentle tug on her shirt and she stole a glance to Arthur seeing that his attention was focused forward but she'd known it had been him, there was no one else close enough to touch her, and but a few seconds later, Arthur came to a stop a short length from the thrones and she did the same, realising he'd covertly warned her so she wouldn't have kept approaching.

"Father," Arthur greeted with a tip of his head. "This is Hermione," he introduced.

Taking a breath, Hermione readjusted her stance, straightening her back tall and proud and standing with good posture, her head held high and her hands delicately clasped before her body.

If she could ride a dragon, survive a war and stand before a giant and Voldemort, she could stand before King Uther. He was far less frightening, she told herself.

"Hermione, this is my father and the King of Camelot, King Uther Pendragon."

"It is a true pleasure, Your Grace," she said with a polite, friendly smile and she gave him the best curtsey she could manage.

Rising to her full height, she caught a glimpse of Arthur trying to suppress a smile so she assumed she'd done fairly well, though it helped that Arthur had told her how King Uther preferred to be addressed before they'd arrived.

Arthur left her side and approached the platform, climbing the steps and stopping before the right and second-largest chair, a throne, too, she realised. Merlin stepped around the chair with a red cape in hand and he quickly fastened it around Arthur's neck before reaching for a gold crown that sat atop a velvet pillow and he placed it on the Prince's head.

Hermione blinked slowly for a few moments, it being the first time she'd seen _Prince_ Arthur with a crown of his own.

Once the crown was in place, Merlin stepped back into position and Arthur took a seat on his throne, looking more regal than she'd seen him despite the fact he was comfortably lounging in the chair whilst King Uther sat tall and straight. Sending Arthur a quick glance, she realised that day he wore clothing of dark blue and black, the colours complimenting his skin tone and making his eyes stand out more than usual.

Her eyes fell back to the King, seeing the way his eyes seemed to be darting back and forth between her and Arthur, a glimmer of amusement shining through his otherwise blank expression.

"Arthur tells me that you are a physician and that you have methods of treatment he has never before seen," he said, his tone holding no emotion despite it being clear he found the thought of her, a _woman_ , being a physician ridiculous.

She reminded herself to be as honest as possible, she'd always been a terrible liar and if she was caught in a lie now, she might be executed for it. She knew King Uther had no qualms about such a punishment.

"Yes, Your Grace. I was the physician in my village. As for my methods of treatment, I was raised surrounded by young men and they had a habit of injuring themselves and I took up the mantle of treating them the best I could. Their mother, although a lovely woman, was quite frightening and the boys did not wish for her to know how or why they had been injured, and so they would come to me. As you can imagine, I grew to be quite good at caring for the injured and I learned to experiment and create my own forms of treatment."

"And you taught children to read and write."

"I did, Your Grace. I see no reason why children should suffer due to a lack of education or resources, so I took it upon myself to educate them the best I could and their parents didn't seem to mind as I taught them, too. Now that the children are capable of such skills, I believe they will have a better chance of finding employment should they age and decide they wish to leave the village."

"That is rather generous of you, to give your time and energy to others without asking for anything in return," he commented.

"The smiles on the children's faces when they read a sentence correctly or were able to mimic the sentence I wrote, was more than anything I could have asked for, Your Grace. The children of my village were happy and that is all that mattered to me."

He made a slight humming sound and shifted in his seat, presumably to get more comfortable.

"But it is not _your_ village, correct? Arthur informed me that you arrived at the village but a year prior, and that you hail from another Kingdom."

"Yes, I was raised in the Kingdom of Hogwarts."

This is where he sat tall in his chair, both arms and hands resting on the armrests as he kept his gaze locked with hers. This is where she knew he was waiting to catch her in a lie; she had to choose her words carefully.

"I have not heard mention of your Kingdom."

"I would be surprised if you had, Your Grace. My Kingdom is not a neighbour of Camelot, rather it is a three month's journey south to reach the border."

From what she could remember, Arthur was said to have been born in what was known in modern times as Cornwall, and with Hogwarts being in the Scottish Highlands on the other side of the UK, she would be highly surprised if he _had_ heard of a such a Kingdom, not due to it being hidden rather due to the distance that separated them.

"I am to assume your Kingdom has a King?"

"Your Grace, that question is a little more difficult to answer. You see, unlike most Kingdoms who only have one royal family and King or Queen sitting on the throne, the Kingdom of Hogwarts has four."

"Four, you say?" He replied, sharing a surprised look with Arthur.

"Yes, I said four, Your Grace. My Kingdom is divided into four cities and each city has a ruler, but collectively they reign over Hogwarts together. If a decision should be made about one specific city then that decision lies with the corresponding ruler, but if a decision should be made regarding Hogwarts in its entirety, the decision must be made collectively and unanimously."

"That is...Usual," he responded, looking truly surprised.

"I believe to others it would seem so, but for my Kingdom, it has always been the way," she smiled. "Hogwarts was founded by four of the most powerful, intelligent and influential people that has been seen, we refer to them as the Four Founders."

King Uther's brow furrowed in thought, his lips pulling into a thin line.

"I believe that is a term I have heard before."

Hermione blinked slowly and tried to mask her surprise. How had King Uther heard of the Founders? There was no clear indication as to when Hogwarts had actually been founded, only that it was around the time of Merlin himself. For all she knew, Hogwarts may have only been open a matter of years and it could still be in its founding stage, or it could've very well been founded decades ago, there was no way of knowing unless she went in search of it and she highly doubted she'd be able to find it given how well hidden it was.

"What are the names of your royal families? What do they bear on their crests?"

"King Salazar Slytherin resides over the Slytherin territory, his crest is that of a serpent and his colours are green and silver. Queen Helga Hufflepuff resides over the Hufflepuff territory, her crest is that of a badger and her colours are yellow and black. Queen Rowena Ravenclaw resides over the Ravenclaw territory, her crest is that of an eagle and her colours are blue and bronze. And finally, King Godric Gryffindor resides over the Gryffindor territory, his crest is that of a lion and his colours, like your own, are red and gold."

Hermione wasn't sure how to feel when the King and Prince shared a quick glance before the King reached down behind his throne and pulled back with the Sword of Gryffindor in his hand. Her breath caught. How had she forgotten to ask Arthur were the items where? She'd have to be especially careful.

"This sword is unlike anything I have seen. The quality of the craftsmanship is truly a masterpiece. This is a sword for a King and I believe it is inscribed with the name of your King Godric," King Uther spoke, his gloved finger gently trailing down the blade and over the inscription, his eyes slightly narrowed and suspicious.

She chanced a glance at Arthur, surprised to see that he did not look suspicious, rather he looked hopeful, excited even. Her eyes then moved to Merlin, seeing his slightly wide-eyed expression.

How the hell was she going to get out of this one without losing her life?

"Please explain to me why you, of all people, would be in possession of a sword that belongs to a King."

Hermione took a subtle calming breath, not wanting to alert them to her sudden anxiety as it would instantly give her away.

"I was given it to protect, Your Grace."

"Why?"

Godric, what was she going to do? The only way he'd believe her was if she could successfully convince him she was a member of the royal family. Did she want to do that? If it all came crashing down around her and he found out she was lying, then he'd have her executed. But then if it didn't, he'd likely invite her to stay at the castle which would not only mean she wouldn't have to search for accommodations whilst she was in Camelot, but she'd have close access to Merlin and she could help him control his magic, but she might also be able to nudge Arthur and Gwen towards one another, too.

But what if he tried to contact Godric Gryffindor to corroborate her story and ensuring she wasn't lying? Then again, she didn't think it would be an issue. The chances of him being able to get a message to Hogwarts was about as slim as Hermione returning home.

Well, here goes nothing.

"I am a daughter of Godric Gryffindor."

It wasn't a lie, not really. Anyone who'd been sorted into Gryffindor was a child of the Founder, the portrait hanging in the common room had said so many times before. But then, she would be too young to be his daughter. Even when Hogwarts had been founded –which she still didn't know the accurate timing- the Four Founders hadn't been young. She knew Godric had a son and that he'd died young, it would be easy enough to say she was his Granddaughter, much more believable than a daughter, at least to her it would be. King Uther would never believe that a King would allow his daughter to live in a poor village.

"His daughter? You are King Godric's daughter?" King Uther asked, still eyeing her suspiciously but less so, even as he took in her clothing and appearance.

Arthur on the hand, had sat up tall in his throne, his hands resting on the armrests and his fingers flexing as he gripped tightly, his eyes as wide as Merlin's and his expression just as surprised –and happy-, too, as they darted between her and his father, a smile pulling at his face.

"No, Your Grace. I am not the daughter of King Godric, I am the _Gran_ daughter. The sword you now hold is the sword that belonged to my father. It is a replica of my Grandfather's sword. They share a name and my Grandfather was so incredibly proud of his sword that he had another commissioned for his son."

"If what you say is true, you would be..."

"Hermione Gryffindor, the Princess of Gryffindor, yes, Your Grace."

"You are a Princess?"

"Yes, my father was Prince Godric Gryffindor," she answered. Well, she'd always been referred to as the Gryffindor Princess, she thought wryly.

"Then might I ask, why you are in possession of your father's sword, and how you came to be in a small village?"

That was easy enough, she thought. She just had to tell the truth but be cautious of the words she spoke.

"Your Grace, for that last two decades, my Kingdom has been at war with another. When I was a young child, my Grandfather sent myself, my mother and my father away for our protection, to keep me safe. My mother's pregnancy and my birth were kept hidden so no one would know of my existence, and I was raised in secret. I had a quiet, happy childhood until I didn't. Upon my eleventh birthday, my existence was made known to our enemy Kingdom and I was forced to grow far too fast for a child and I had to fight for my survival. Two years ago, my parents were killed by our enemies," she explained and it wasn't a lie, they'd been murdered by Death Eaters. "And my friends and I were forced to run and we suffered many a trial during those dark times. When news reached us of the Final Battle approaching, we all knew we had to fight for our Kingdom and so we did. We fought in the battle and we _won_."

"I was separated from my friends by a group of enemy Knights and they chased me from my Kingdom and home, they chased me for months until they caught up with me. I was found in the territory of Ealdor by a young man that would later become my best friend. He carried me to the village and I was tended to the best I could be given their lack of supplies. I was told I was unconscious for days until I woke and later fell unconscious again. When I woke, I realised I had nowhere to go. I wasn't sure how my Kingdom had faired after the battle, I wasn't entirely sure who had survived and who had not. I couldn't bear the thought of returning home to Hogwarts and seeing the damages and changes, and so, I stayed in Ealdor. I built a life for myself, I helped the children and the villagers. I kept them safe the best I could as repayment for the kindness they showed me."

Arthur stared at her with sad, horrified eyes, Merlin with sad, wide eyes and King Uther, his expression was blank.

"I lost my parents, the future King and Queen of Gryffindor. I know that once my Grandfather passes, I shall be expected to sit on the throne but my Grandfather has a brother who I believe the people of Gryffindor would much prefer. I am their Princess by birth, but the majority of them do not know of my existence and I know they will be more comfortable with him taking the throne and ruling over them. There are people in this world that need help and I can do so far better on the streets than I can sitting on a throne. I kept my identity a secret not only for my safety but it reminds me of what I was forced to face in my past, and those memories will forever haunt me."

"Are you capable of providing proof that supports your words?" The King asked her and Hermione bit her lip thoughtfully.

"Other than my father's sword? I have a letter that was written by my Grandfather to myself, on my eleventh birthday. In my Kingdom, the important ages of celebration are eleven and seventeen."

"May I see it?"

_Oh, Merlin!_

"Of course, Your Grace. If you would allow me a moment, I have always kept it close to me and I would appreciate it if your guards were to look the other way whilst I retrieve it."

His eyebrows rose high on his forehead and in other circumstances she may have well laughed at the reaction, as well as Prince Arthur's who seemed to be mimicking his father's surprise and Merlin's cheeks had flamed red.

King Uther cleared his throat and nodded to the guards, each of them turning to look at the walls behind them and Hermione nodded in thanks and then turned her back to them, sparing a quick glance to make sure no one was looking.

She slipped her hand beneath her sleeve and pulled her wand, quietly and quickly conjuring a piece of parchment and muttering an Illusion Charm that would make it appear older and to have a very specific message, signature and Gryffindor crest before she slipped her wand back up her sleeve and turned to face forward once more, an aged scroll held in her hands.

"May I approach, Your Grace?" She asked.

"You may," he replied.

Hermione, hoping to God that her charms held up long enough for him to read the scroll, be convinced that it was written by a real King and return it to her, approached slowly but as confidently as she could manage.

She climbed the steps and stopped at the one before him, holding out the scroll in offering for him to take. Once he took it from her, Hermione climbed down the stairs and returned to her previous spot, seeing that the King's eyes were held firmly on the scroll before him and both Arthur and Merlin appeared to be trying to read it, too, as they both leaned closer to the King. She almost laughed at the sight but didn't wish to bring attention to herself.

The scroll was lowered and the King's eyes sought hers. "Forgive me for my questioning of your words, Princess Hermione..." He started and Hermione held in her sigh of relief that she wasn't going to be executed or imprisoned. "But I had to be sure you are who say you are."

"I understand, Your Grace, and I take no offence. You only wish to ensure the safety of those in the castle and Camelot," she replied.

"May I ask why Arthur found you in the woods after being attacked by bandits?"

"I once promised him that I would visit Camelot, I have heard tales of the beauty of the city and wished to see it with my own eyes. I have done all that I can for Ealdor and I have spent the last two months training two apprentices to take over my duties as village physician and to prepare the village for my leaving. They no longer require my help and services and I thought it time to make good on that promise I made. It was luck that he, Merlin and the Knights found me when they did."

"And what are your plans now that you are in Camelot?"

"I'm not entirely certain, Your Grace. I have no idea how long I wish to stay, only that I would like to see the city and help as many people as I can whilst I am here. No matter how beautiful or prosperous a city may be, there will always be those that are in need of help, of food, shelter and medical care."

"You have a big heart, Princess," he commented, his suspiciousness of her seeming to fade and an almost kind look entering his eyes.

"I have seen a lot of bad things over the years and I have suffered. I wish to prevent others from suffering, too. I have the means to do so and it would be selfish of me if I were to turn a blind eye to such suffering when I can help."

"For your safety and comfort, I insist that you remain at the castle for however long you plan to remain in Camelot. You will be given a bedchamber of your own, a handmaiden to attend to your needs and you shall dine with my family."

"Thank you, Your Grace, that is incredibly gracious of you," she responded, curtseying and then clasping her hands together in front of her body.

"Arthur tells me that your belongings and clothing were taken and destroyed by the bandits, is that correct?"

"Yes, Your Grace. I understand that you have laws preventing the practice of magic in Camelot." She saw him stiffen and his hands gripped the armrest of his throne tightly. "I only mention this because it is the opposite in my Kingdom. Magic is celebrated, only those that practice dark magic and those with the intentions of using such magic to cause harm are punished. On my eleventh birthday, I was gifted a bag by my father which he bought from a young sorceress. This bag allows me to carry and safely hide away any items of importance or value. When the bandits stole my belongings, they only stole my bags which contained food and clothing. My valuables were safely hidden away."

Both Merlin and Arthur eyed her curiously whilst King Uther looked torn between being curious and demanding she dispose of such an item.

"Do you require clothing?" He finally asked.

"Yes, Your Grace, but I believe I shall find somewhere in the city I am able to buy such items."

"There is no need, I will ensure the royal seamstress visits your chambers and has more _appropriate_ clothing made for a Princess," he replied, deliberately looking over her clothing in displeasure.

"Your Grace, if I might ask, do you have a pillowcase, too?"

He raised an eyebrow but reached behind his throne once more and the tied pillowcase dangled from his fingers.

"I have not opened it despite my curiosity. If I may, what is inside?"

Hermione took a breath and gestured in question of approaching and he gave permission. She climbed the steps and took the pillowcase from him, once more holding it with the tips of her fingers before she returned to her spot, untied the rope and tipped the contents of the pillowcase onto the ground, the items clattering against the floor.

The King, Prince and Sorcerer all leaned forward slightly to get a better look at the golden chalice, silver and emerald locket and the silver and sapphire diadem. They were each disfigured and covered in a black paint-like substance.

As she stared down at them, memories of her time being a fugitive flashed through her mind. She remembered the fear, the suffering, the hunger, the arguments, the nightmares and sleepless nights. She didn't know why she'd kept them, maybe to stop them from falling into the wrong hands until they could be properly disposed of, maybe it was to remind her of the past, maybe it was because despite what had been done to them, they were still important pieces of history.

"Princess Hermione..."

Her hand snapped up, spying Merlin's worried frown, Arthur's concerned face and King Uther looking at her expectantly.

"I am sorry, Your Grace, these items hold bad memories for me and I'm afraid my mind was suddenly flooded with them," she gave her head a light shake and sighed. "The Four Founders of Hogwarts each had an item that belonged to them, something they were known for having, something of great importance and value. My Grandfather has his sword, King Salazar his locket, Queen Helga her chalice and Queen Rowena her diadem."

"What happened to them and why are they in your possession?"

"They were stolen and destroyed by our enemies. As I said, they were highly valued and considered incredibly important, they were kept hidden and under guard. They were stolen and destroyed not only to deal a blow to the Kings and Queens, but to show that they were capable of stealing them, of breaking through their defences and that caused panic amongst the people. I tried to prevent them from being destroyed but they were always one step ahead and I was always too late. That is why I have them. I had thought of returning them to their rightful owners, but I doubt they would wish to see their most treasured items in their current forms, and despite that, I cannot bring myself to dispose of them giving what they stood for and what they meant. I'm unsure if my Grandfather's sword faired the same but he always carried it upon him, so it is likely he still has it," she answered, reaching up to brush a fallen curl out of her face and behind her ear. "Are there any other questions you wish to ask, Your Grace?"

"No, I believe I know all I need to. Tonight we shall have a feast in your honour."

_Oh God, no!_

"That is not necessary, Your Grace," she replied, fiddling with her hands nervously. That meant food, dancing, poufy dresses and all eyes on her. It sounded like a nightmare.

"You are a guest of the Royal family of Camelot, a Princess. It shall be an honour to introduce you to the noble families of Camelot."

She couldn't think of anything worse.

"I shall have the seamstress sent to your chambers as well as a handmaiden. She is yours and you may do with her as you please."

"You are too kind, Your Grace," she said, tipping her head.

"Arthur?" He said.

"Yes, Father," the Prince replied, tearing his eyes away from her and to his father, speaking for the first time since he'd taken his seat on his throne.

"Have your manservant escort the Princess to her new accommodations, I believe the chambers directly above yours will suit her well."

"Yes, Father," he nodded, sending a look to Merlin over his shoulder and he nodded before stepping out from behind the throne and slowly approaching her.

"Your Grace, might I have my father's sword now?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, of course," he replied, looking a little surprised that he still had it resting in his lap.

After quickly putting the destroyed items back in the pillowcase, she approached the King and took the scroll and sword for him.

"Thank you for your kindness," she said.

"We shall see one another later this evening. I will ensure you have a suitable dress for the occasion."

"Your Grace," she curtseyed before turning and following Merlin out the room, only she stopped when her name was called. "Yes?" She questioned, turning to face the King and Prince.

"Last night, Arthur issued a warning regarding a wolf," it was a statement, not a question but she still understood what he was trying to convey.

"Yes, the wolf's name is Akela. He is rather protective of me and should he believe me to be in danger or under attack, he will protect me. As long as no one approaches him or does anything he perceives as threatening, he is harmless. He is able to feed himself, he is house trained and he only leaves my side when he is hunting, which is what I believe he is doing now. He shan't hurt anyone unless he believes I am being threatened."

"I shall inform those working in the castle," he nodded.

She curtseyed once more before turning and leaving out the room, the sword, scroll and pillowcase in hand as she followed after Merlin.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 11

The moment the large doors closed and Hermione and Merlin could no longer be seen or heard, Arthur stood from his throne and descended the steps of the platform until he stood before his father.

"She is unlike any other I have met," the King commented and Arthur nodded in agreement.

"Yes, she is. I have always believed she was of nobility but I had never thought of her being _royalty_ ," he said, surprisingly feeling a little upset.

Why hadn't she told him? He was a Prince, of royal blood, too. Why had she seen it fit to keep such a secret from him? Why had she lived in a village with such few resources when all she had to do was travel to a city and explain her circumstances? Then she would've never wanted for food or water, or clothing and shelter. She would've been well looked after and safe. Why hadn't she trusted him?

"You wish to marry her." It was a statement of fact, not a question.

"She is everything I believe Camelot needs. She is kind, well educated and she cares deeply. I have seen her risk her life to save that of two children with no concern of what may come of her. If I had not arrived in Ealdor when I did, she would've been executed for protecting the villagers. I _know_ she will love the people of Camelot and she will do everything in her power to protect the city and its citizens, and she will do everything she can to ensure they have better, plentiful lives. I _know_ she will one day be a Queen that is loved by the people."

"And by you?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. Arthur's hand came up to the hilt of his sword and his finger tapped nervously. His father gave him an amused glance. "I have seen the way you look at her, Arthur. I have seen how you care for her. And though I do not believe you love her at this moment in time, I believe that with her now being a guest in the castle, it shan't be long before you find yourself in love with her."

"I have always known it was expected of me to marry for alliances and prosperity, to better Camelot."

"But if you _love_ the girl, it will make your life and duty to the throne simpler and happier," he said knowingly, his eyes glazing over slightly before he shook his head. "Do you wish to marry her, Arthur? Do you wish for her to be your _wife_ and _Queen_?"

Arthur took a moment to gather his thoughts before answering, "Yes," he breathed out. "That is what I wish."

His father leaned back in his throne, his elbows resting on the armrests and his hands clasped together.

"I never thought I'd see the day you willingly accepted a marriage offer," he commented.

"She did not come to me, Father. I _chose_ her. My wishing to marry her is unknown to her, she has no idea that I wish for her to be my wife. She has done nothing to try and impress me, she has offered nothing in return for an accepted marriage proposal, she has done nothing to gain my attention or affections. She does not flutter her eyes or use pretty words and compliments, she does not dress to impress me but for her own comfort. She treats me as she does everyone else, without difference. She offered me kind words and advice when I needed it the most. And that is why I believe she will be the Queen Camelot needs, the woman that I need by my side. I had thought it was a coincidence that we met, but now, I believe it was meant to be. I believe she is destined to be Queen."

"Yes, I admit, it is rather peculiar that you happened to meet a Princess in a poor village, and one with such tragic circumstances."

"Does that mean I have your permission, Father?" Arthur asked, suddenly feeling nervous.

The King ran the tip of his index finger over his lip thoughtfully. "Arthur, she is a Princess, as such with a marriage between you will bring an alliance. Before I am able to give my permission, I must speak with the man that must approve of the possible union. With the passing of her mother and father, that responsibility lies with her Grandfather, King Godric Gryffindor of Hogwarts."

Arthur had known his father would say that so he wasn't quite certain why he felt disappointed.

"I will send a small group of riders with a missive to King Godric."

"Father, we do not know where it is, it's not on any of our maps and it's a three month's journey."

"The riders will travel south until they either find it or someone that knows where to find it. It will take three months to arrive and three months to return, do you believe you can wait six months, Arthur?"

Arthur frowned. Six months?

"It seems I have no choice, Father," he replied. "She is unsure of how long she will be staying in Camelot, what if she wishes to leave before the riders return?"

"Arthur, she is a Princess, this must be done. Take the time given to ensure she does not wish to leave. If she is to be your wife, I suggest that you use this time wisely. If a missive returns with acceptance of our proposal and she loves you, she will not wish to leave Camelot and I believe she will have no objections to the thought of a union between you."

"Yes, Father," he nodded.

"But Arthur, make no mistake, if a missive does return and King Godric denies that she is his Granddaughter and she is found to be a lair, she _will_ be executed. She may have the sword, but it could have been stolen. She may have a letter, but that could have been forged. During her time in Camelot she will be treated as royalty and she will have our protection, unless proven otherwise. I only say this as I wish for you to be cautious with your heart."

"I understand, Father," Arthur replied, tipping his head and bowing slightly before turning on his heel and heading towards the doors, knowing he'd been dismissed.

When the guards opened the doors, he stepped into the corridor and once he'd rounded the corner and was free from being seen, he came to a stop and leaned against the stone wall, pulling his crown from his head and brushing his hand through his hair.

"Six months," Arthur said to himself.

He had six months to convince the pretty Princess to either stay in Camelot long enough to consider the idea of marriage to him, or to get her to fall in love with him. Arthur had a feeling it would be a lot more difficult as Hermione didn't seem the type to fall for charming smiles and expensive gifts.

He had a mission. To prove to the young woman he was worthy of her love. He knew it wasn't going to be easy, especially when he remembered Gwen's words about him being ignorant, rude and selfish. Of how she'd scolded him for his behaviour when she'd allowed him to stay at her home when he'd been hiding out during the tournament. Given how selfless and kind Hermione was, he knew he had to do everything within his power to change that, as he was sure Hermione would never wish to marry a man with such qualities.

Pushing away from the wall and standing tall, he made his way down the corridor. He would visit the training grounds for a while and then prepare himself for seeing _Princess_ Hermione later that night.

~000~000~000~

"Merlin, why are so quiet? It is unlike you," Hermione said, looking to her left where Merlin was silently walking beside her and he had been for several minutes whilst he led the way to her new accommodations.

Merlin stole a glance and then faced forward, looking unsure of how to reply.

"Merlin, I am still the same person. Does my status change my personality, my wishes to help others or our past interactions? I had tried my best to put it behind me but it seems I shall never be able to escape my past. I may be Princess Hermione, but to you, I will always be _just_ Hermione, your friend." He looked to her in surprise and she snorted at him, his eyes widening further at the unladylike action. "Yes, Merlin, we're friends. I had thought I'd made that obvious, do you think I go about revealing _secrets_ to just anyone, of course not," she shook her head. "I understand this may be a lot for you to digest, but it does not change anything between us. My promise still stands, if you need me I will help in any way I can."

Merlin came to a sudden stop before a large door and he reached out, turned the handle and pushed the door open, allowing Hermione to step inside first and he followed after her.

Her eyes darted about her new rooms, seeing they were very similar to how she remembered Arthur's being. A large four-poster bed with red curtains drawn open and tied to the posts sat against the back wall and dominating the room, there was a large fireplace and large arched windows, a large writing desk and chair, a dinner table and two chairs and a cabinet and trunk. An archway separated the room into two and on the other side, she could see two cabinet-wardrobes, a chest of drawers, a large free-standing mirror and what looked to be a vanity table and chair. Torches lined the walls and candles were littering the surfaces of the tables. She'd have to do a bit of rearranging she realised, maybe use some of the many cabinets as a place to store her books and ingredients.

She approached the bed, placed the pillowcase, scroll and sword on the throw cover and then she turned to face Merlin, seeing him watching for her reaction as he stood by the door.

"Close the door, please, Merlin," she said.

He looked a little confused but he did close the door and Hermione raised her hand and waved it in a partial 'S' motion before dropping it and clasping her hands together in front of her body.

"What was that?" He asked curiously.

Hermione smiled at him. "It was a bit of magic that will prevent anyone that should walk by these chambers from hearing anything that may happen or be discussed," she answered.

It wasn't often she had free time between her duties when in the village but Hermione had always made sure to make some for practising non-verbal and wandless magic. Without her wand, she was unable to cast magic and that would result in a magic build-up, which wouldn't be good for anyone in her vicinity. She didn't want to be useless or defenceless, and though she was making slow process, she was able to cast a small number of spells and charms without the need for her wand though it had taken her almost a year to do so.

"That's brilliant, I've never heard of such magic," he responded excitedly.

"I learned it in school," she smiled.

She lifted her hand and gave it a wave and two chairs were suddenly summoned away from the vanity table and writing desk and towards her. He blinked in surprise before a laugh left him and Hermione took one chair and gestured for him to take the one opposite her.

"I had no intentions of anyone discovering my identity, Merlin. I was safer without people knowing and although the war in my Kingdom is over, there is still a risk there are people out there that may wish to harm me if they learn that I'm still alive. That is why I kept my identity a secret. For my safety as well as the safety of any who may be close to me."

"Did William know?"

Hermione took a deep breath at the mention of her friend. It had been months since his death but it still hurt and she still missed him.

"He didn't know of my being a Princess, but he did know I have magic," she replied and he blinked before shaking his head and chuckling.

"Of course, he did," he responded fondly.

"Do you wish to know why I came to Camelot? Why I left the safety of Ealdor?"

"I think I might know," he said, his mouth tugging into a smile as if he knew something she didn't. "But tell me anyway."

"I have done everything that I can for Ealdor and they no longer need me, and I do wish to continue to help those that need it and I'm sure there are plenty in Camelot that would benefit from my help and services, but I didn't just come here for them."

"You came for Arthur," he said amused.

She blinked in surprise. "Well, somewhat yes, but I also came for you."

"Me?"

" _You_ , Merlin. You're incredibly powerful and you are capable of so much, but you need training to be able to do so. I came to help you, to train you the best I can, though you must remember that we practice different forms of magic. You are accustomed to the magic of the Old Religion, I practice a new form of magic and they are vastly different but I will do what I can for you."

"If King Uther were to see us..."

"He won't, Merlin," she promised. "I have ways to teach you privately and safely. King Uther will _never_ know of either of us, I promise. We may train wherever you would feel more comfortable, in the woods, in the dungeons, in here, wherever you prefer."

"Thank you, Your Highness," he replied.

She rolled her eyes. "Merlin, to you I am Hermione and nothing else. I do not wish for you to treat me any differently than you have in the past. I am your friend, not your superior and I would never dream of treating you or anyone else as such."

His mouth twitched knowingly but he otherwise didn't comment.

"You mentioned a magic bag... Can I see it?" He asked.

Hermione smiled and nodded. "Close your eyes, when I heard the bandits I hid it down my shirt where I knew they wouldn't find it."

His cheeks flamed red but he did close his eyes, covered them with his hands and turned his head to the side, too, much to her amusement. She quickly pulled the little bag free and then gave Merlin permission to open his eyes, seeing the way they widened in surprise. She knew he'd never seen such an item before, the colours, fabric and stitching was something he wouldn't be accustomed to but thankfully it was easy to conceal and it didn't stick out so much that it drew attention.

A startled laugh fell from the sorcerer when she opened the bag and stuck her hand inside, her arm disappearing right up to her elbow and with the contents of the bag rattling and banging about inside.

"This bag contains everything I hold of value. My texts and tomes, my ingredients and my gold," she explained, drawing back with an ingredients jar in her hand that was far too big to fit inside the bag and yet it did.

"Is it true what you told King Uther?"

"No," she smiled and he laughed at her. "This wasn't gifted by a sorceress, rather, I enchanted it myself. I wasn't going to admit that to the King though, I am quite fond of my life and do not wish to lose it."

"Merlin! Where are you!"

They both looked towards the door and Hermione chuckled. "Sound is prevented from leaving but not from entering," she explained after seeing his confused expression. "It seems the Prince is in need of you. If you would give me a few days to get settled and learn the layout of the castle, then we will begin your training soon after."

"That's great, thank you, Hermione," he beamed.

"You are very welcome, Merlin. After all, if I can't help a fellow magical practitioner in need, then what good is my magic?" She smiled.

"Merlin!"

The sorcerer sighed and Hermione laughed lightly as he stood from the chair and crossed to the door.

"I will see you later in the evening," he said.

She sighed in annoyance. "Please don't remind me of what is to come, Merlin," she grumbled and he raised an amused eyebrow. "Feasts, parties and balls are something I wouldn't mind living without."

"You truly aren't like other Princesses," he commented.

"I like to defy the expectations of others. I also _hate_ wearing dresses."

He chuckled. "The royal seamstress will love you," he said jokingly.

"I imagine so," she laughed. "Have a wonderful day, Merlin, think of me whilst I'm trapped here for God knows how long whilst I listen to a woman prattle on about colours, fabrics and patterns. I would much rather face William's dreadful singing."

His mouth pulled into a smile at the mention of his best friend, obviously knowing how truly awful William's singing voice had been. Hermione wouldn't wish such a punishment even on Voldemort.

"My thoughts and prays are with you," he teased.

"I shall need them," she nodded.

He chuckled before pulling the door open and as he did so, it revealed an older woman stood on the other side with her hand poised mid-air as if she were about to knock. Merlin shot her an amused look over his shoulder before leaving the room and going in search of Prince Arthur.

"Princess Hermione," the woman greeted. "I am Hilda, may I enter?"

The woman looked to be in her mid-thirties with dark hair braided intricately and bright green eyes, reminding her of Harry. Her skin was tanned and she had a large nose with a mole close to her lip. It was clear her clothing was of a quality that was better than villagers would wear, but not to the standard of nobility.

"Of course, Hilda, am I to assume you are the one I must speak with regarding clothing?"

"Yes, Your Highness," she responded, stepping in and curtseying.

"Please, Hilda, my name is Hermione, there is no need for such formalities," Hermione said.

The older woman tipped her head. "This is Marcella," she introduced a younger woman.

Hermione would say she was in her mid-twenties and she had dark blonde hair, dark green eyes and was quite a bit taller than Hilda. Her skin was pale and ears a little too big for her head and her clothing looked to be of a quality lesser than Hilda's but better than a villager's.

"Pleasure to meet you, Marcella," Hermione smiled.

"Your Highness," she curtsied clumsily and Hermione's mouth tugged up at the corners.

"As I said to Hilda, there is no need for such formalities. I have not been addressed so in many years. If you would like to set up in the other room, I shall be through in a moment, I'm just waiting for one more and then we may begin."

"Yes, Your Highness," Hilda replied, gesturing for Marcella to the push the cart containing fabric and colour swatches to the other room. Hermione held in her sigh, knowing the women would only address her as such no matter how many times she asked otherwise.

Once they were gone, Hermione returned one chair to the writing desk and made to return the other chair to the vanity table, when a young woman appeared in her doorway.

Hermione observed her carefully, seeing her shoulders hunched and her nervous form. She wore a clean but tatty looking dress, her mousy blonde hair was tied into a knot at the back of her neck, a smattering of freckles rested on her pale cheeks and her hands were clasped nervously. She was only young, Hermione realised. In fact, she looked younger than her, maybe sixteen or seventeen and her eyes were cast down to the ground.

"Please come in," Hermione spoke. The young girl shuffled inside and curtseyed, her eyes remaining downcast. "What is your name?"

"My name is Ginevra, Your Highness," the young girl said shyly.

 _Of course, it was_ , Hermione thought.

"Ginevra, please look at me," Hermione said and she slowly raised her eyes. "That's much better," Hermione smiled. "You have such lovely eyes and it would be a shame to not see them," she said and she meant it; the young girl's eyes were a dark blue with flecks of green and she blushed at her words. "You know, I once had a good friend called Ginevra," Hermione spoke softly before giving her head a shake. "Anyway, am I to assume you are to be my handmaiden?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Ginevra, my name is Hermione and I would very much like it if you would refer to me as such, there is no need for you to address me with such formality. Now, I would later like to discuss with you what I do and don't expect of you, but for the moment, would mind please fetching some tea for the four of us."

"Four?" She questioned shyly.

"Of course," she smiled. "I need an impartial and unbiased opinion regarding my soon to be wardrobe. And a selection of cakes and treats would be wonderful if you're able to find some."

"Yes, Your Highness," she curtseyed.

"Hermione," she corrected.

"Hermione," she mumbled, her cheeks flaming red.

"Wonderful, when you return please knock and then enter. We shall be waiting for you."

The young girl curtseyed once more before backing out of the room and closing the door behind her. Hermione sighed. She had her work cut out for her with that one; she was very much like Neville had been in first year.

Giving her head a shake, Hermione picked up the chair and crossed through to the other room, placing it in the centre and taking a seat, waiting for Hilda and Marcella to notice her presence and once they did they both startled and quickly turned to face her, apologising for keeping her waiting.

"It's not a problem, ladies," Hermione interrupted. "I have often found myself so engrossed in a task that I have been unaware of the happenings around me for hours at a time. Shall we begin?"

"Of course, first of all, I have been informed that you require a gown for a feast this evening. It will be difficult to have one made at such short notice and to the quality that is expected..."

"Hilda," Hermione interrupted, "There is no need for you to worry yourself. I have a dress that is suitable for the feast this evening."

She blinked in surprise. "Oh, then let's make a start on designing your other dresses. We shall need to discuss what fabrics, patterns, styles and colours you prefer."

Hermione smiled politely. She _hated_ shopping and this was even worse. When shopping with Ginny, it was easy enough to sneak out of the shop and hide out in another, but now she was trapped. She hoped to God, it didn't take too long. She'd like to have the chance to explore the castle and grounds before she was expected to ready for the feast. A bit of fresh air would do her some good.

"I have no specific requests regarding colours, I believe a variety would give me options to choose from, though I admit I am quite partial to red and gold and shades of purples and blues."

"Red and gold?" Hilda questioned, sharing a glance with Marcella.

"Yes, they are the colours of my family, and we bear a lion on our crest. Fabrics, a variety would be appreciated also. Light fabrics for the summer and heavier, warmer fabrics for the winter. I also require a cloak, and or, travelling cloak as my previous ones were damaged and burned. As for the style of dresses, I would like something that is not too restricting and that allows for easy movement. I am a trained physician and I spend a lot of my time healing the injured and mixing remedies, so anything with long sleeves or trains should be avoided. In fact, a few dresses that are suitable for my duties would be appreciated, maybe with darker colours as I tend to get covered in blood quite a lot. I don't mind off the shoulder styles, but I also don't wish to show off my figure too much. I am not here to impress anyone and I wish to dress for comfort and to my own tastes, no one else's. Is that everything?"

The two women blinked slowly, looked to one another and then back to her, nodding as one.

"Excellent, Ginevra shall be back with tea and then we may begin." Just as she said this, there was a knock on the door and then it opened, Ginevra stepping inside with her arms laden by a large tray filled with tea and a selection of cakes.

Seeing that the young girl was struggling with the weight, Hermione stood from her chair with the intentions of helping her but before she could, Hilda had nudged Marcella forward and the blonde had rushed to help Ginevra. Hermione sighed, knowing this was how her life was going to be from now on.

The door was closed and the two women placed the items down on the vanity table before Hermione was offered tea by a trembling hand. She definitely had her work cut out for her.

"Thank you, Ginevra, please bring the chair from the writing desk and take a seat."

The young girl was quick to do as told and she sat beside Hermione though with more of a distance between them than was necessary.

"Before we begin, I would like for a selection of dresses to be made for Ginevra, something that is both comfortable and suitable for her duties."

"Your Highness..."

"Hermione," she corrected. "And I will hear nothing of it, Ginevra. You are now under my care and as such, I will ensure you are correctly clothed and cared for. Your current clothing appears to be one wash away from falling to pieces and is far too small for you. You shall also need a dress that is suitable for the feast tonight, as my handmaiden I expect you to be present. Cost is not an issue; I shall take care of it."

"Yes, Your Highness," she mumbled, her face redder than she'd seen it and her hands clasped nervously in her lap.

God, give her strength!

Hermione had the sinking suspicion that Ginevra wouldn't last long with her no matter how nice and patient Hermione was. There was only so much timidity she'd be able to take before she lost her temper and the young girl burst into tears, and she looked as though she were close to doing so right now.

"Let's focus on Ginevra's dress for the feast first."

~000~000~000~

Hermione was bored. She was bored out of her mind. In fact, she was eyeing the needle and thread that sat on the cart and very much contemplating stabbing herself until she bled just to give her something to do.

Two hours had passed and although they'd agreed on a design for Ginevra's dress for the feast as well as several for everyday wear, they'd moved onto her and they'd been discussing the benefits of one colour and design over another for the last hour, the two women parrying back and forth whilst Ginevra sat beside her quietly and barely looking up from the ground and Hermione did her best to not slouch in her chair or fall asleep.

When there was a scratching against the door, Hermione thanked the Heavens for the distraction and made to stand to open it knowing it would be Akela, only Ginevra had scurried from her seat and beat her to it.

The moment the door opened and Akela stepped inside, searching his new surroundings cautiously before sniffing at the air, searching for her scent and he followed it to her into the next room, all the while, Ginevra had let out a shrill shriek and was cowering against the door. Hermione barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Once the wolf entered the room, the two women stopped in their arguing and scurried back against the wall, their fear clear but thankfully they weren't making any noise.

Hermione let out a sigh when Akela sidled up beside her, sitting down and dropping his head in her lap, an indication that he wanted a head scratch from her. When she ran her hand through his soft fur, his eyes darted up towards her, giving her a look that all but said he was both annoyed and amused with their reactions to him, as was Hermione.

"Oh, for the love of God!" Hermione snapped, unable to keep her calm as Ginevra was now a whimpering mess. Neville had never been that bad! "Ginevra, he is not going to harm you. Do you really believe a wild wolf would be loose in the castle without anyone knowing? Were you not told I had a pet wolf?"

"Yes, Your Highness," she cried, trembled.

"Then please, stop with the tears. He is harmless unless he believes I am under threat," she sighed before she looked down at the wolf. "Akela, would you please make yourself comfortable either by the fireplace or the bed, the choice is yours. I believe the ladies will be unable to focus with you in the room and we have quite a lot to get through."

Silently, the wolf stood and padded back through to the other room, Hermione glancing over her shoulder to see the large wolf curling up in a ball on the floor against the fireplace. Knowing it was most likely where he'd sleep, she made a quick note to find an old throw cover or blanket that he may sleep on.

"Ginevra, take a seat, Hilda, Marcella, let's continue. I confess, I am not like most Princesses and this is not something I very much enjoy, and I have a lot to get through this evening."

If she didn't kill herself of boredom first, that is.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 10

It was another three hours later when Hilda and Marcella were _finally_ pushing the fabric laden cart out of room after coming to an agreement on designs, fabrics, colours and taking both hers and Ginevra's measurements and quickly leaving to make a start on the young girl's dress that she would need for the feast that was due to start in a few hours time. Luckily, Hilda already had a dress that was almost completed but the order had been cancelled by the woman, so with a little alteration, it would do for Ginevra.

Once the women were gone –of which Hermione knew they were horrified by a couple of items that she'd asked for as well as the dresses- Hermione barely restrained herself from doing a victory dance and she returned her chair to the vanity table and made her way into the other room, taking a seat on the edge of the large bed. She could already feel the difference between the bed she'd slept on in her hut in the village, and it even felt more comfortable than the bed she'd had at home and at Hogwarts, too.

She hadn't very much time to do all the things she wished to do to settle in, and she couldn't make a start until Ginevra left, so she decided to see to her first.

"Ginevra, please come here, I wish to speak with you."

The young girl returned the chair to the writing desk and then approached the bed, stopping before Hermione with her hands clasped and her head lowered, her eyes briefly glancing over at the slumbering wolf and then back to the ground.

"Look at me," she instructed and the young girl lifted her head until their gazes locked. "How old are you?"

"I am seventeen, Your Highness," she responded quietly.

Hermione quietly sighed. "Why do you work in the castle? What did you do before you were made my handmaiden?"

"My mother has worked in the kitchens since before I was born. When she fell pregnant with me, my father died of an illness that couldn't be cured. The King assured my mother that she would be taken care of and that I would have a place in the castle if I should wish it. I have been helping in the kitchens since I was fourteen and I have been cleaning the castle for almost two years."

"That was very generous of King Uther," Hermione said, feeling surprised that he'd done such a thing. "But I must confess something to you, Ginevra. I like to think of myself as a very tolerant and patient person, but I must warn you, I do have a temper and when my patience is tried, I can be quite snappy. I am sorry for the way I spoke to you earlier, I am usually more contained, however, I was annoyed Hilda and Marcella were here for so long and by your reactions to Akela, despite the warnings that had been issued before you met him. I understand it is frightening but there is no need for such loud exclamations, luckily for you, the loud noises didn't annoy him either or it may have ended badly."

"You are too quiet, too shy, and unless you can look me in the eye and pass me something without trembling, I'm sorry to say, you may not be my handmaiden for very long. I am a physician; I work long hours and I see some terrible things that can make me irritable. If you cannot handle me when I am in such a mood, then there is no point in you being here. I don't wish to upset you or hurt your feelings, I am only telling you the facts. If you do not think you can handle it, please tell me now, and I will ask for another handmaiden."

"I can manage," she said quietly.

"You'll have to speak up, Ginevra."

The young girl took a deep breath. "I can manage," she repeated louder.

"Excellent, now, let's go over what I expect of you. I am not like others you may encounter. I much prefer to do things for myself; therefore, your list of duties will be quite a bit shorter than any other handmaiden or manservant. I do not require your help with dressing unless I ask for it, I do not require your help with bathing, but I would like for you to bring the hot water as expected. I do not require help with my hair unless I ask first. On a morning, I am able to wake myself but I would like you to bring me breakfast. If I wish to leave the castle and explore, I may ask you to accompany me, I may not, that will depend on whether or not I plan to purchase anything that I may not be able to carry by myself. I intend to work in the city, therefore I won't be here that often and when I'm not or you're not with me, you may do as you wish as that time is yours."

"I'm sure you are already given a wage but I will also be giving you a wage for your services. The dresses that have been ordered are yours and yours alone. They are yours to keep and I don't expect anything in return. As I said previously, now that you are my handmaiden, you are under my care and I will ensure that you have anything you may require. If you find yourself in a spot of trouble, please tell me and I will do what I can to help you. I may be irritable and snappy from time to time, but I will treat you with kindness and respect. I am quite independent and I don't require much from you. Akela, if you are afraid of him, simply stay out of his way and he shan't bother you. He is capable of finding his own food but if you bring him some meat or cheese when bringing me my meals, I'm sure he'll grow to like you."

"Cheese, Your Highness?" The young girl questioned in surprise, her eyes darting to the sleeping wolf who'd not long since rolled onto his back with his legs in the air and Hermione snorted at him.

"Yes, cheese, he is quite fond of it, surprising, I know. His favourite meat is rabbit but he is able to hunt that himself. If you bring him something he may not be able to catch in the wild, maybe mutton or pork, I'm sure you'll be the best of friends. Unless you mean to harm me, he is of no concern to you and he shall leave you be. Are there any questions you wish to ask me?"

"No, Your Highness."

"Well then, I shall unpack my belongings and I don't require your help with it, so you may do what you wish with this time. An hour and a half before the feast, I would like to bathe and your dress should have arrived by then. Fifteen minutes before my arrival is expected, I would like for you to return and be ready and we will leave for the feast together. Understood?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

"You may go, Ginevra, and I shall see you later this evening."

"Your Highness," she said, curtseying and all but scurrying out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Despite her words and assurances she could handle the job and the little duties Hermione had given her, –knowing other handmaidens and manservants practically did everything for their charges- she honestly didn't think Ginevra would last long. She was nothing like the fiery and stubborn witch she'd grown up with. A name was all they had in common.

She would've much preferred to do everything herself and she honestly had no need of a handmaiden, it being the reason she'd given her so few tasks, but she knew it would be rude to decline the King's gift and it was expected of her to have such people working for her. She didn't mind being unusual, different, but not so much that she stuck out like a saw thumb.

Sighing, Hermione stood from the bed, pulled her wand from her sleeve and sent a Locking Charm to the door before she reached for her beaded bag and tipped it upside down, emptying the contents of it onto the mattress.

She was surprised by some of the items that came free; books, ingredients, clothing from the future, towels, canned foods, an actual kitchen sink, -why did she have a kitchen sink?- a tent, some of Harry and Ron's clothing, hygiene and bathroom supplies, medical supplies, Harry's Invisibility Cloak and a pouch that was charmed on the inside to be bigger and that contained a large amount of gold, silver and copper coins. The money had belonged to Harry who'd managed to slip away to Gringotts –she still wasn't sure how as he refused to tell her lest she go mad and hex him- and he'd withdrawn a large amount to be used in cases of emergency.

She'd barely touched it since arriving in the past, but she'd since come to understand that it no longer held any use to Harry and that he would want her to use the funds to make a better life herself. As such, she planned to use the substantial pile of gold, silver and copper to help others that may need it. There was far too much for her to spend in any lifetime, especially now with her being in the past and there being no such thing as inflation. The amount she held currently was just shy of five thousand pounds in the 20th century, so she could only imagine what it would be worth in the late 5th century, likely hundreds of thousands, she couldn't be sure.

Pursing her lips in thought and lightly tapping the tip of her wand against her thigh, Hermione turned to the cabinet in that side of the room and approached it, opening it up to reveal it was empty and held two shelves and two drawers. After a quick Enlargement Charm, she placed her rarer ingredients inside the cabinet and locked it once she was done. With a whispered spell, she had a second cabinet summoned from the other room and placed beside the other one, and after charming it bigger on the inside, she unpacked her books and tomes and placed them all inside, once again locking it behind her so only she would be able to open it.

Harry and Ron's belongings, the food, tent, sink and her clothing would be returned to her bag along with the rest of her ingredients until she had a building to practice out of, and her medical supplies were placed in the trunk. The Sword of Gryffindor was hung on the wall on the pegs and stand that was already there, positioning it above the fireplace and she had the pillowcase containing the Horcruxes stashed away in her bag once more to be forgotten about.

She knew there were still items that had yet to be found so she returned to her beaded bag and dug around inside until she found a wooden jewellery box that had been gifted to her by her Grandmother, of which, she stashed the pouch of coins inside before locking it in the drawer on the writing desk. She found an old blanket, too, which she left out for the time being and she would place it by the fireplace once the wolf had woken, and finally, she found what she'd been looking for.

It was a little wrinkled as it hung from the hanger but a spell or two would easily take care of that, and Hermione hung it from the torch nearby before returning the rest of the items into her beaded bag and then she locked that away in the writing desk, too.

Sighing to herself, she climbed onto the bed and laid in the centre, looking up at the wooden slab that was the ceiling. Hermione thought about potentially charming it to show the stars; it would certainly be nice for it to be the last thing she saw before falling asleep.

~000~000~000~

A knock on the door startled Hermione awake and she sat up, rubbing at her eyes realising that she'd fallen asleep, and she wasn't the only one to have woken as Akela seemed to be glaring at the door in annoyance.

Snorting, Hermione climbed from the bed and crossed to the door, releasing the Locking Charm and opening it to reveal that Ginevra stood on the other side with a large flagon of steaming water by her feet, a collection of cloths gathered over her shoulder and a metal bucket with a selection of scented oils and soaps. Behind her stood another two older looking girls, a flagon of steaming water between them and a large metal tub sat before them.

How long had she slept?

Shaking her head, she smiled. "Please, come in girls," she said, opening the door wider and allowing them entrance.

The two girls who looked similar in appearance were likely related and they both carried the large tub into the second half of the room, before returning for the flagons of water and pouring the steaming liquid into the tub. Once done, they left with a curtsey to her and out the door, leaving her with Ginevra who stood in the doorway nervously.

"Has your dress arrived, Ginevra?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, Your Highness," she replied.

"And is it to your liking?"

"It is beautiful, I have never owned such a dress," she blushed.

Hermione smiled. "I am pleased you like it, I'm certain Hilda and Marcella would be happy to hear that. Do you have somewhere you may dress and prepare for this evening?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Then I shall take these from you and see you in a little while. Thank you, Ginevra," she said, reaching for the bucket and cloths.

The young girl curtsied before turning and leaving out the room and down the corridor without a second glance towards the wolf that eyed her with a narrowed gaze for waking him up. Chuckling, Hermione kicked the door shut and reapplied the Locking Charm before heading towards the tub.

There wasn't quite enough water for her but that was easily rectified with an _Aquamenti_ , which also helped to cool the steaming liquid. She summoned two towels, placing one on the ground by the tub and the second she hung over the lip of the tub, before she quickly divested of her clothing, released her hair from the hair tie and then she climbed into the tub, hissing as despite her adding extra cold water, it was still hot and she could already see her skin turning pink.

When she was able to take the heat, she sat down in the tub, reached over to edge to dig through the selection of bath oils and soap until she found one she liked, a floral smelling oil and she dumped it into the water before relaxing back against the tub and towel.

She took in the silence and solitude, relaxing her aching muscles that still hurt from the journey on foot and the day's ride, and it stung against the slowly healing cut on her arm. She relaxed for as long as she could before she knew she had to ready for the feast she was dreading. She used the nice smelling soap to scrub her body clean, shaved her underarms and legs with a previously blunt razor which she always charmed to be sharp and then she summoned her hair care products.

She'd long since run out of shampoo and conditioner, but she'd learned to make her own with natural ingredients and with the use of one of the books she'd taken from Grimmauld Place. There hadn't just been medical texts, but books surrounding history, spell casting, dark magic, arithmancy, potions and hair and beauty charms and products, too. And she never thought she'd say it, but they certainly came in handy.

After washing and rinsing her hair and feeling cleaner than she had in a long time, she stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself up in a towel, casting a quick Drying Charm over her hair and body.

Now she was clean, it was Akela's turn and she emptied the tub and refilled it with warm water. They'd only done this once before and he hadn't particularly liked it, but his fur was still stained with blood and he was filthy. She knew he'd accompany her to the feast with so many unknown people being present and him being so protective of her. People would be afraid of him regardless of what she told them so she at least wished to make him look less frightening and more presentable.

"Akela, we need to clean you," she said, popping her head through the archway and looking at the wolf. "Come on, it'll be quick."

The look he gave her all but said she was insane if she even thought for a moment he'd willingly get in the bath.

"Akela," she sighed. "There is to be a feast tonight. I promise that if you let me clean you, I shall feed you cheese beneath the table."

At the mention of the bribe word –that's what she called it as he'd yet to refuse to do anything he didn't want to with the bribe of cheese- the wolf slowly rose to his feet and stretched himself out like a cat before begrudgingly approaching her and the tub.

"We just need to clean the blood from your fur and then you can get out," she said.

The wolf sent her an annoyed look before jumping into the tub and splashing water everywhere. Hermione knew he'd done it on purpose and she couldn't even be mad at him as he sat in the tub, the water coming up to his stomach and he held a far from pleased look on his face, much like a child at bath time.

Biting her lip to stop herself from laughing, she conjured a jug and used it to wet the remainder of the wolf which hadn't been easy as he refused to sit still and allow her to do it. Once done, she lathered him up with a sweetly smelling soap and rinsed away the blood and dirt from his fur. There was still a red-pinkish tint around his chest and mouth but it was certainly better than before and his dark-silver fur helped to hide it.

"All done, get out," she said.

The wolf had been waiting for those words as he launched himself from the tub and onto the ground, shaking his fur dry and covering her with the water droplets. She couldn't scold him, he looked too cute with his wet fur sticking out and a sulky look in his eyes. Looking at the water, she saw that is was nearly black with dirt and blood.

God! He really _had_ been in need of a bath!

Shaking her head, she banished the dirty water and quickly gave the tub a rinse before casting a Drying Charm over the wolf, his fur seeming to puff up like a poodle that had been brushed. He looked soft and fluffy like a cloud and reaching out and running her hand through his clean and nicely smelling fur, Hermione thought she wouldn't mind using him as a pillow. The wolf skulked away from her and sat himself down in front of the fireplace once she'd placed the blanket there for him and he made himself comfortable.

As it was getting dark and cold in the castle, she lit the torches as well as the fireplace and she cast a Warming Charm over herself before she retrieved her dress and crossed back into the other room. She dropped the towel and put her under-things on and then she slipped on her dress, fastening the buttons at the back with a wave of her wand. She took a seat at the vanity table and did what she could for her hair before slipping on her footwear and then moving to stand before the mirror. With some effort and a bit of magic, her dress was now suitable for this time period, well, mostly.

As she slipped her wand beneath her sleeve, she glanced at herself in the mirror. She currently wore the dress she'd worn to Bill and Fleur's wedding, though no one would ever know due to the alterations she'd made, or the fact they hadn't been there, obviously. It was still the same ruby red colour only now it had sleeves that fell down to her wrists and they sat off her shoulders, showing her collar bones, the column of her neck and the very top of her cleavage, so it was nothing too revealing and she still felt comfortable. The dress fit to her frame and cinched in at the waist, clinging to her bum and legs before flaring out in a mermaid style until it touched the ground. She knew such a style would be unseen in Camelot but it was easy enough to say it was a custom from Hogwarts. And yes, the dress was form-fitting but she'd done so on purpose. If they were going to stare at her, she was going to give them a reason to, or so Fleur had told her to do twice before.

She wore her silver-studded earrings, her mother's silver locket –which had since been repaired- around her neck and it rested just above the line of her dress, and on her feet, she wore a pair of red flat shoes that were more of a medieval-type ballet flat with a strap around the ankle. For her hair she'd gone simple, allowing it to spill down her back until it reached just above her waistline, with some of it pulled back into a half-up half-down do held in place with pretty hairpins, but one or two curls framed her face. Thanks to her hair products, her hair was still a wild, tangled mass of thick curls, but it had lost the frizz and bushiness and now appeared soft.

Knowing there was nothing else she could do and actually, she _felt_ pretty which couldn't often be said, she was as happy with her appearance as she could be and she stepped away from the mirror, making sure her wand was hidden and out of sight and that visible scars were glamoured.

Crossing to the other room, Hermione debated tying a bow around Akela's neck to make him look less frightening and more like a large fluffy dog, but she decided against it. She didn't want her wolf to be uncomfortable, he'd already had a bath and looked far too fluffy and cuddly for his own good, and she reminded herself that he was still a wild animal no matter how domesticated he appeared to be.

"You look very handsome," she told her wolf, crouching down at his level the best she could in the tight dress and running her hand through his fur. "I promise, I will feed you all the cheese you can eat and if you behave and don't growl at anyone this evening, I may even slip you a sweet treat, too. There are people here to protect me, tonight you needn't do so."

A knock on the door sounded and Hermione rose to her feet and crossed the room to the door, opening it and revealing someone she hadn't been expecting, Merlin.

He stood there in surprise, staring at her with parted lips, wide eyes and a blush to his cheeks. She noticed that his clothing appeared to be of a better quality than usual and he didn't look as unkempt either. Her eyes fell down to his hands, seeing the velvet cushion that sat what was unmistakably a beautifully designed and crafted tiara made of gold and that held a number of small rubies, maybe six or eight, she couldn't be sure at the angle she stood.

"Hermione..." Merlin started.

Hermione's mouth pulled into an amused smile despite the heat she felt flooding her cheeks.

"Yes, Merlin?"

"You...Well...You look...I...I've never seen such a dress," he stuttered.

"I hadn't expected you to have; it's something of a custom from Hogwarts. Luckily, I had this stashed away in my bag, I was able to alter it a little to better suit the occasion."

"You...You look beautiful."

"Thank you, Merlin," she replied with a smile.

"You'll have all eyes on you this evening."

"That would have been the case no matter what I wore, but a friend of mine used to say if they're going to stare, give them a reason to."

"You've certainly done that," he muttered, shaking his head. "I have been asked to give you this before your arrival. The guests are still arriving and are being seated, you are expected shortly so you may make your entrance."

"Give me it?" She frowned, looking down at the beautiful and no doubt expense item.

"Yes, Arthur insisted that you have it."

"Merlin, I appreciate the gesture and the thought, but I cannot accept such a gift."

He shrugged his shoulders. "It's Arthur's doing, not mine. But _please_ accept it, at least just for tonight. He said I have to polish every piece of armour in the castle if I can't convince you to wear it. Please, Hermione, for my sake. Do you have any idea how many that is? I don't, I can't even count that high! I feel nauseous just thinking about it. Even if I had a little extra _help_ , I'd take me weeks. Please, _please_ , save me from a life of servitude and boredom. I might steal a sword and end my life. Do you really want to be responsible for my death?"

"I'll be sure to write you a lovely eulogy," she deadpanned.

He scowled at her but she could see his mouth twitching as though he wished to smile.

"Please, I swear, if I kill myself I'll come back as a spirit and haunt you."

Despite being amused with his dramatics, Hermione sighed. "I'm not comfortable with this Merlin, but for you, I will make the sacrifice."

"Oh, thank God," he sighed in relief, before he removed the tiara from the cushion and sat it in place on her head, Hermione reaching up to right it so it wouldn't fall off. He smiled as he stepped back. "Now you look like a Princess," he said. "But I best not keep Arthur waiting, I'll see you at the feast," he said, giving her bow and darting out of the way when she made to smack at his arm, his laugh echoing as he darted down the corridor.

Hermione rolled her eyes and closed the door before moving over to the mirror, staring at herself in surprise. She'd hardly noticed herself in the dress before, but now she wasn't even sure if she were the same person. It was a wonder how a single piece of jewellery could change your appearance. A simple tiara –that wasn't quite so simple- sat on her head, looking as though it belonged there. Merlin was right; she _did_ look like a Princess. The Gryffindor Princess.

A knock on the door startled her and Hermione returned to it, knowing this time it would be Ginevra and when she opened it, she was right. She smiled at the nervous, shy girl before her, seeing she looked rather pretty with her hair intricately braided and being clad in the soft yellow-orange dress. A quality she noted that was above a villager but below nobility and for those in-between.

The young girl stared at Hermione with wide eyes; her gaze darted between her tiara, face and dress.

"You look lovely, Ginevra," Hermione commented with a smile.

"Your Highness..." She trailed off.

"Shall we head down to the feast, I believe they are waiting for my arrival?" The young girl merely nodded as she stepped back to allow Hermione room. "Akela, time to go. You can nap later," she called softly, the large wolf letting out a grunting noise of displeasure before he climbed to his feet and walked until he reached her side. "Would you mind leading the way, Ginevra, I'm not yet familiar with the castle?"

"Yes, Your Highness," she muttered.

 _Oh great, she was back to being timid again_ , Hermione thought with a sigh.

"Then please, after you," Hermione gestured with her hand, stepping out of the room and closing the door behind her, quietly following the young girl through the castle with a large wolf obediently by her side.

Oh, what a sight she would make when she stepped into the room. She could only imagine the reactions of Harry and Ron if they were with her right now. She was certain they'd be beside themselves and Ron would be laughing his arse off, repaying her in kind to the way she and Harry had teased him for his dress robes for the Yule Ball all those years ago.

It was times like this her heart ached at the knowledge that she would never again see her friends, that she'd never again get to speak with them. It was times like this when she needed them by her side, the way they'd been for years.

Looking down at her wolf, she was grateful she had him and that she wasn't completely alone.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 8

“Merlin, what are you smirking at?” Arthur asked, peering up at his manservant as he filled his goblet with ale.

“Sire?” He questioned innocently.

Arthur narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Merlin,” he said, his voice lowering in a tone of warning.

Merlin’s face suddenly split into a grin. “It is nothing, Sire, though I should warn you to prepare yourself.”

“For what?”

Merlin didn’t respond, he just grinned annoyingly and then stepped back into place behind his chair and into the shadows.

Arthur turned his focus towards his father when he suddenly stood from his throne, the banquet hall instantly falling quiet as all the servants, Knights and guests turned to him in their seats at the large tables.

“Thank you all for attending this evening and I apologise for the short notice period given. Tonight, you have all been asked to attend so you may help in welcoming a guest to Camelot. I have met with her briefly and I can say I have truly never before met a woman such as herself,” King Uther spoke.

Arthur, who was sitting on his father’s right, caught a quick glance of Morgana and Gwen sharing a confused look, before Morgana looked to him with a questioningly raised eyebrow. Arthur did his best to keep his expression blank though he must have failed as Morgana’s face suddenly split into an amused smile. As far as Arthur knew, Morgana was not yet aware of Hermione’s presence or her status as a Princess, the knowledge having been kept quiet so it may be revealed at the feast.

He wasn’t looking forward to the teasing and comments he knew he would soon be receiving. Morgana never missed an opportunity to bring up the pretty physician they’d met in Ealdor and once she discovered Hermione’s true identity, he knew it was only going to get worse. He’d have to do his best to avoid her.

“It is not yet known how long she is to stay in Camelot, but whilst she is here and for however long that may be, she will be treated as any royal and guest should.”

Again, Morgana shot him a glance, a slightly suspicious look in her narrowed eyes as though she knew _exactly_ who would be staying as their guest.

“Please, join me in welcoming from the faraway Kingdom of Hogwarts, the Granddaughter of King Godric of Gryffindor, Princess Hermione Gryffindor.”

The large doors were pulled open by the guards, whispers picking up amongst the guests as they all waited for their first glance of the Princess.

Arthur had honestly never been more surprised and he’d never seen such beauty, as Hermione stepped out of the shadows and into the lit banquet hall. He was unable to find a word to describe her beauty and he felt his head swim with fog, his hands clenching around the armrests of his throne tightly and his breathing seemed to stop. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her even if he’d tried. If she’d been beautiful with messy hair and wearing a dirty shirt and breeches, then were no words to describe how she looked when she stepped into view.

The ruby-red dress she wore clung to her body in a way he’d never before seen. Though it wouldn’t be considered inappropriate as only her shoulders and neck were displayed, the way it formed around her body as if it were a second skin, showed her feminine figure. Her hair, despite being the same tangled curls he remembered, no longer looked wild and bushy, rather it looked soft and smooth as it hung down her back with one or two strands framing her face. The tiara atop her head not only drew attention due to the rubies reflecting in the firelight, but it looked as though it were _meant_ to be worn by her. Her face was relaxed, her features kind and soft and her hands were delicately clasped in front of her body and her large wolf stood proudly and protective by her side, his eyes taking in his surroundings cautiously but otherwise he remained calm.

She looked like a _true_ Princess. And someday, she _would_ be Queen. He was going to do everything he could to make it so.

He blinked in surprise when he found himself being stared at by the occupants of the hall, including his father who looked more amused than he remembered ever seeing him. Giving his head a light shake, Arthur soon understood why there were staring; it seems that in his daze he’d stood from his chair, all without him realising he’d done so.

Clearing his throat, he stepped away from the table and made his way down the aisle, his gaze locking with Hermione’s as he approached. He came to a stop before her, bowing with his eyes holding hers and once he rose to full height, she curtsied. Once she was standing, his hand raised and he held it out towards her expectantly and seeing this, she brought her own hand to gently rest in his.

“Princess Hermione,” he said softly, refusing to lose her gaze. “You are a sight to behold, the Gods themselves have never seen such beauty.”

Her cheeks tinted pink and his mouth pulled into a smile at the sight.

“Thank you, _Prince_ Arthur,” she replied with a smile of her own.

He could feel the stares and hear the whispers and Hermione shifted uncomfortably, so he decided it best to get her seated. He stepped beside her and placed her hand in the crook of his elbow, his other hand coming up to gently rest over it as he slowly led her towards the royal table.

His father observed with a knowing twitch to the mouth and Morgana’s eyes were wider than usual, her mouth parted in surprise as her gaze darted between him and Hermione, whether it was due to her true identity or the dress she wore, he couldn’t be certain.

“I must thank you, Arthur,” Hermione said quietly as he led her down the aisle and with her wolf at her side, eyes were darting between her and the large animal, as if just noticing it was there, and that was quite possible giving how stunning Hermione looked that evening.

His eyes flickered up to the tiara sitting atop her head and he smiled. “Every Princess is in need of a crown and I was unsure if you would have one.”

“I appreciate the thought and it was incredibly kind of you, but I hope you know I cannot keep such a gift.”

His brow furrowed. “Why?”

“It is too much, Arthur. I’m not one for material possessions and regardless of whether I’m a Princess or not, I’m not one for wearing such items of jewellery and I never have been. I shall wear it this evening as it is expected of me, but I cannot keep it.”

They reached the table and Arthur paused, bowing to his father and Hermione curtsied beside him.

“You look lovely, Princess,” his father spoke. “I confess, I have never before seen such a dress.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. This is a style from my Kingdom, luckily, I had it hidden amongst my valuable possessions and it was undamaged.”

“Have you met my ward, Lady Morgana?”

Arthur’s eyes darted to Morgana, seeing that she’d composed herself but looked to be struggling to contain her amusement with the situation.

“I have,” she nodded, turning her eyes to her and offering a smile. “It is a pleasure to see you again, My Lady.”

“I assure you, _Princess_ , the pleasure is mine,” Morgana responded and Arthur hadn’t been able to suppress his glare. “What is a Princess doing in a village such as Ealdor?”

“That is a long story,”

“And one for another time,” his father interrupted, tilting his head towards the chairs beside him.

Nodding, Arthur led Hermione forward and to the chair that sat beside his. He released her hand and pulled out her chair, waiting for her to sit before he retook his own throne. When they were both sat, his father gave the signal and large platters of food were brought forward by the servants, first being placed on the royal table and once done, the other banquet tables were filled. Silence reigned until the King selected the food of his choice and then conversation soon filled the hall as his father turned to converse with Morgana and the guests began eating.

He looked at his options, seeing the platters of pies, bread, cheese and fruits, and the meats; chicken, pork and beef, some already having been cut and others being a whole chicken or pig’s head.

He watched as Hermione reached for a second plate, one smaller than what was already before her and he raised an eyebrow in amusement when he saw her select some of the meats and some cheese, before bending to place the plate on the ground. Leaning back slightly, a laugh left him when he saw her large wolf laid on the ground as though it were nothing but a friendly dog, and quietly but quickly eating the offerings, him noting in amusement he chose the cheese over the meats first.

Hermione, hearing his laughter, turned to look at him with a smile and her eyes sparkling as the candles on the table cast shadows across her face.

“I promised Akela that if he would allow me to bathe him, I would sneak him a platter of cheese.”

He chuckled. “I had thought you were jesting regarding his love of cheese,” he commented.

“I wish,” she laughed softly. “Cheese _always_ works as a bribe; I have yet to see him refuse to do anything I wish if there is an offer of cheese as a reward.”

“Are you certain he is a wild animal?”

“No, I have my own suspicions,” she replied with a smile. “I believe he may be a spy in disguise, who wishes to gain my trust before he takes my life.”

“I shall ensure the guards’ rounds of the castle are doubled and that there are two guards positioned by your door.”

“That would be appreciated, thank you,” she nodded, playing along and he laughed, briefly noting that as she chose her own food items, she kept her portions small.

That was something they’d have to work on, he thought. He wanted her to be healthy and that meant ensuring she ate enough food so her eyes were no longer sunken and her cheekbones no longer stood out. They had plenty of food in Camelot and no matter how much she ate, it wouldn’t affect their food stores even minutely, she wasn’t in Ealdor where food had to be rationed and he’d have to remind her of that.

She reached for her goblet, her brow furrowing and her lips pursing slightly before she looked over her shoulder. In a flurry of movement, a young girl was stood behind Hermione’s chair, looking nervous as her fingers fiddled with her dress –of which he knew instantly, was of a quality unbefitting a servant- and her head lowered. Arthur had never personally seen her in the castle, but he was certain he’d never seen someone so timid.

“Ginevra,” Hermione sighed softly, looking as though she were doing her very best to keep herself calm and her voice quiet as to not frighten the young servant. “You assured me you are capable of handling your duties.”

“I am, Your Highness,” she replied meekly.

“Then look at me.”

She hadn’t snapped at the girl but it was clear annoyance was beginning to edge into her tone. Once the young girl lifted her head, her cheeks flushed pink and she bit at her lip nervously.

“I don’t require your presence this evening.”

“Your...”

“Ginevra, please. It is clear to me you are beyond uncomfortable, more so than I am and I didn’t think that was possible. I’m very capable of putting myself to bed, I’ve been doing so for years now. You are excused for the evening and I shall see you for breakfast in the morning.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” the girl muttered, before stepping back and all but running out of the room, using the doors behind them that the servants used.

Hermione let out a sigh, pushed her goblet away from her and her head dropped into her hands.

“Merlin,” Arthur called and his manservant was behind him, seemingly before he’d even finished summoning him. As much as Arthur teased and insulted him, he had to admit he could occasionally be quite efficient.

“Yes, Sire?” He questioned.

In response, Arthur gestured to Hermione’s goblet with a nod of his head and Merlin was quick to raise the pitcher and fill it.

“Thank you, Merlin,” Hermione spoke, her voice muffled as she still sat with her head buried in her hands.

“You’re welcome, _Princess_ ,” he replied, a grin pulling at his face when Hermione’s head lifted from her hands and she scowled at him over her shoulder, her hand twitching as though she wished to hit him.

Merlin laughed quietly and returned to his position hiding in the shadows, all the while, Arthur had watched the interaction carefully. He realised they were familiar with one another. What was the nature of their relationship? Arthur remembered that Merlin seemed to know things about her, things that only she would be able to tell him, in which case, why did she tell him such things and when?

Hermione looked over her shoulder, sending Merlin a playful glare and he heard his manservant sniggering. Seeing the way Hermione’s mouth pulled into a smile before she turned around, he felt his stomach twisting and it was in that moment that he realised, he was _jealous_.

 _He,_ Prince Arthur of Camelot _,_ was jealous of _Merlin_ , his manservant!

That most certainly wouldn’t do, he thought with a scowl. He had to know the nature of their relationship. He wished to marry Hermione, he wished to make her his wife and Queen because he _knew_ she would be what Camelot needed and he _knew_ she would love and care for the people as much as he did. She’d caught his attention the moment they’d met and it hadn’t been intentional on either side. The more he learned, the deeper he fell. He couldn’t marry Hermione if she were in love with another man.

“You seem to be close with Merlin,” he said, trying to keep his tone casual as to not alert her to his current dilemma.

He wished to keep his plans of him wanting to marry her a secret. He wanted to spend time with her, to show her he was worthy of her love and affection. He wanted her to feel for him before he made his intentions known. He didn’t want her to think he wished to marry her to form an alliance between their Kingdoms, to get something in return. He wanted to marry her because she was kind and intelligent and brave.

“I quite like him,” she smiled at him, reaching for her goblet and taking a delicate sip, a slight grimace pulling at her face at the taste of the ale and he couldn’t help chuckle at her, despite her words unsettling him.

“You _like_ him?”

“Yes, he reminds me of the people I grew up with. And he was William’s best friend, which we have in common. It’s bittersweet because when I look at him, he reminds me of people I love and people I’ve lost. My friendship with Merlin doesn’t feel forced. With him, what you see is what you get, and that’s what I like about him. He’s not malicious, he’s not sneaky, he doesn’t want something from me. In the short time we’ve known one another and the few interactions we’ve had, I know I’ve found a friend for life and I can’t help but trust him. I hold no care for the differences in our circumstances and I won’t allow that to stop me from being his friend.”

Arthur had honestly never felt more relieved. Listening to her words and the way she’d spoken them, it had been with a tone of fondness, as one might speak of a friend or family member, certainly not a lover.

He had no reason to be jealous of Merlin, and if she trusted him and thought of him as a friend and Merlin seemed to return the sentiment given the teasing he’d witnessed, he knew he could trust Merlin to keep Hermione safe should it ever be needed.

“Speaking of servants...” He said and understanding the change in conversation, Hermione let out a sigh, took a sip from her goblet, grimaced and then put it down on the table.

“Please, don’t,” she muttered. “Ginevra is not going to be my handmaiden for very long. It was generous of your father to give her to me, but you see, despite my blood, I wasn’t raised in a castle with servants and guards. I was sent away for my protection and I was raised as a commoner, in a place no one would think to look for me. Despite that, I never wanted for anything and I received an excellent education. I was raised to be independent and to be able to do things for myself, so I am uncomfortable with having someone to aid with dressing and doing my hair and the like. As such, I have reduced the number of expectancies of Ginevra as anything I am able to do myself, I will. There is a slight problem in there being that she is quiet, she is unable to look me in the eye and she cannot pass me anything without shaking like a leaf. She almost burst into tears when I asked her to sit down whilst the seamstress was visiting, and the sound she made upon meeting Akela gave me a headache,” she sighed, her hands coming up to rub at her temples and he found himself frowning in concern.

“She is too timid to be my handmaiden. I have a temper, you may not think it as you have yet to witness it, but I do, and I have been told it is quite terrifying. I work long hours as a physician and I see some things that are truly horrendous. That coupled with my exhaustion makes me irritable and when I am irritable, I can lose my patience quite easily. Ginevra will not be able to cope with me when I am in such a state. I am doing my best to remain calm, to remind myself that she is but a young girl, but that is only going to last for so long and I am worried that I will snap at her and she will burst into tears.”

“Hermione, I will ensure you have another and more suitable handmaiden by tomorrow morning,” he promised.

“That is kind of you, Arthur, but I truly don’t need one. My duties for Ginevra are to simply bring me breakfast and accompany me into the city if I plan to purchase anything that I may not be able to carry on my own. I shall give Ginevra a little more time to grow accustomed to her new position in the castle and if nothing changes, I will release her of her duties and if I feel I would like another handmaiden, I will let you know.”

“You are a Princess, Hermione, it is expected of you to have a handmaiden to aid with your day to day life,” he replied, his brow furrowing slightly.

“That’s what you don’t understand, Arthur. I’m not one to do what is expected of me. I like to be unpredictable, I like to be different.”

“You are certainly different from other nobles and Princesses,” he commented, feeling proud that she didn’t simper or bat her eyelashes to get what she wanted. That she truly cared for others and she put their well-being before her own.

She smiled at him. “Who wants to be normal? Normal’s boring,” she responded and he found himself chuckling at her.

As he watched her select a handful of sausages and reach down to feed them to her wolf, Arthur now understood that Hermione would never do what was expected of her. She said she was unpredictable and though that should worry him as he planned on making her his Queen and it was certainly not a trait you would want in a ruler, he found he liked it.

She’d certainly keep him busy and he’d never have the chance to be bored with her by his side. He just had to convince her to give him a chance to show her he could be the man she already thought him to be. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 8

“Ginevra, you may go.”

“Your Highness...” The young girl started but Hermione interrupted.

“I am perfectly capable of exploring the grounds without your aid. I thank you for giving me a tour of the castle and though I know I shall have to walk it a few more times until I remember where everything is, I am quite comfortable here. I no longer require your presence, so please, take the remainder of the day away from your duties to do as you wish and I shall see you in the morning for breakfast.”

The young girl curtsied and all but ran away from her rooms and Hermione let out a sigh, leaning back against the door after closing it over.

“She is testing my patience,” she spoke to her wolf that was curled up by the fireplace on his blanket and he let out a bark in agreement.

She understood why; the handmaiden had barely stopped crying as Akela, being the protective wolf he was, accompanied Hermione on her tour of the castle and with Ginevra’s cries, she’d likely annoyed the wolf, too.

“Not to worry,” she said, approaching and crouching down before him as she ran a hand through his fur and scratched behind his ears. “She won’t be with us for much longer. She has yet to prove to me she is capable of handling us and I don’t think she ever will. I will give her a few more days and if there is no change, I will release her of her duties.”

With a final pat to the head, Hermione rose to her feet and went over to her shoe cupboard, pulling it open to reveal a selection of flats and boots in different colours.

Hermione could honestly say she’d never slept better in her life than she had the night before. She begrudgingly admitted that the feast hadn’t been too bad, but she knew that was Arthur’s doing as he kept her distracted and Merlin would tease her when he was called over to refill either one of their goblets, or when Hermione wanted a second opinion regarding the topic she and Arthur were discussing.

Before the end of the feast, there’d been a short moment that allowed for the guests to meet and greet her and again, Arthur had remained by her side, steering the conversation away from certain topics as he soon understood she was uncomfortable being the centre of attention. When it was finally time to retire for the evening, -thankfully there’d been no music or dancing involved- Hermione had blushed red when Arthur insisted that he escort her back to her chambers and with her bloated wolf by her side –she’d honestly never seen him eat so much- they’d walked the corridors in a companionable silence. Upon arriving at her chambers, Arthur had bowed to her and kissed the back of her hand, bidding her a goodnight with a charming smile.

The room had been lovely and warm due to her having left the fireplace light and after adding a little more firewood from the nearby pile, she’d changed out of her dress, placed the tiara on her vanity stand and climbed into bed, slumber taking over as soon as he head had hit the pillow.

When the sun rose and night became day, Hermione could admit she woke in a bit of a mood. The reason being, Ginevra had knocked on her door and entered with a tray ladled with breakfast and tea, waking Hermione from one of the best night’s sleep she’d ever had. The poor girl had almost wet herself.

After she’d eaten despite not being all that hungry due to the amounts of food she’d eaten the previous night –more than she could ever remember eating-, Ginevra had returned to her rooms, her arms laden with a collection of dresses and a basket of footwear. Hilda and Marcella had spent all evening and night making her a small selection of dresses to tie her over until they were able to complete her order, and Hermione reminded herself to give the women a good tip for their dedication and thoughtfulness.

After Hermione had put away the small collection of clothing and footwear, she’d chosen a soft blue dress with a neckline that showed only a hint of cleavage, full sleeves that clung to her arms and wrists and a skirt that barely brushed against the floor, ensuring she wouldn’t trip or snag it against anything. She’d slipped on a pair of black leather boots, knowing they’d be comfortable and suitable for her plans for the day, and she clipped her hair back from her face with the same pretty pins she’d used the night before, allowing her wild hair to fall down her back. After ensuring her wand was hidden beneath her sleeve, she and Akela accompanied Ginevra on a walk around the castle, only pausing to have a spot of lunch and then continuing with the tour.

It was early afternoon when they’d finished with the castle and they returned to her rooms, and Hermione, needing some time alone and away from her sniffling and shaking handmaiden, had excused her so she may visit the grounds by herself.

Looking out of the windows, Hermione decided against changing into a warmer dress as despite it being early autumn, it was quite warm that day. After closing the cupboard door Hermione left her chambers, this time without Akela as he napped by the fireplace, and she went in search of the gardens.

It was almost an hour later when she’d wandered past the stables, guest stables, the tournament fields and the servants’ quarters, when stepped out into the early afternoon sun that was beaming down and onto a large field which she’d spotted from a distance. Thinking that maybe she’d finally found the gardens, she approached until she recognised the sounds of clashing metal. As she drew nearer, she saw the large field littered with banners and crests, a tent with benches beneath, tables littered with weapons of every kind and shields, bows and arrows and targets were on one side, wooden practice dummies on another whilst men were fighting with weapons, some clad in chainmail, some partial armour and others wore nothing but their shirts and breeches. She blinked in surprise as realised she’d stumbled upon what was most certainly the training grounds.

Giving her head a shake, she turned with the intention to head back the way she came, only a voice that was becoming familiar to her called her name and she stopped in her steps. As she looked over her shoulder she felt a genuine smile pull at her face at the sight of Prince Arthur crossing the field, leaving his companions behind as he headed towards her.

She couldn’t help but smile at him; it was something she found felt natural to her. He was too handsome, too kind and considerate towards her for him to be on the receiving end of anything else, well, unless he was teasing her and then she didn’t mind giving him a scowl or glare.

“ _Princess_ Hermione,” he greeted with a slight bow, his grin widening at the sight of her annoyance. She had quickly learned that he loved to tease her, he’d done so plenty the night before and she wasn’t sure if it was his way of flirting with her, or if it were just the ale he’d been consuming.

He was one of the few that fought without armour or chainmail, rather he only wore a dark blue shirt and dark breeches that were tucked into his dark boots. His hair was rumpled and messy, slightly dampened with sweat and he still carried his sword. Even from the distance between them, she wasn’t blind to the way his eyes trailed her form in her dress.

Hermione remembered the way he’d looked the previous night at the feast, dressed in red and black with his crown atop his head and his cape fastened around his neck, the golden dragon reflecting in the firelight of the torches and candles. If she were honest, the sight of him had not only made her blush, but she’d felt as though a swarm of butterflies had taken up home in her stomach and refused to leave her be. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt such a thing.

It was dangerous. In that moment she’d come to realise that sometime between their meeting and the feast, she’d grown to _like_ him. She’d been horrified; terrified by the realisation but there was little she could do about it. She wasn’t one to easily fall for a man but she was still human, and Arthur was the kind of man she could only dream of one day marrying. He was kind and brave and thoughtful. He was willing to risk his life for the safety of others; he cared about his Kingdom and his people.

It was dangerous for her, she wasn’t sure she could survive falling for him when she knew he was destined to marry Gwen. And that meant she had to do her best to guard her heart, to remember she would never be able to be with him. She had to discourage any behaviour that was inappropriate and give him a nudge in Gwen’s direction and to continue doing so until they fell for one another.

“ _Prince_ Arthur,” she replied, curtsying.

“Where is Akela?”

“Napping in my chambers by the fireplace. He ate a bit too much last night and the walk through the castle has worn him out.”

He laughed. “Yes, I did not think it was possible for a single animal to eat so much,” he responded, reminding her of the fact he’d all but ate a whole chicken, half a platter of sausages, a platter of cheese and half a platter of pork by himself.

“Well, he was well behaved so he was rewarded,” she laughed lightly, remembering that she’d also fed him a lemon cake and he seemed to have enjoyed the apple pie, too.

“You spent the morning exploring the castle?”

She nodded. “Yes, I did and it is beautiful here, it reminds me very much of Hogwarts. Ginevra gave us the tour,” she sighed and he raised an eyebrow, looking around pointedly and bringing note to the fact she wasn’t anywhere to be seen. “I relieved her of her duties. I could no longer take the shaking and sniffling, and she all but wet herself this morning when she faced my temper.”

“Temper?” He asked amused. “What did you do?”

“She woke me for breakfast and I did not appreciate it,” she answered. He laughed. “Usually I wake at dawn but last night I had one of the best night’s rests I’ve had in as long as I can remember and I was unwilling to wake, hence Ginevra being on the receiving end of my displeasure.”

“I am pleased to hear you slept so well,” he smiled. “And what are you doing on the training grounds? Couldn’t help but want to see where the greatest Knights are trained?” He said a little arrogantly, but she’d allow it to slide given that he _was_ a great swordsman and he used his skills to help and defend others.

“I was exploring the castle grounds and searching for the gardens.”

“We don’t have a garden other than the vegetable patches,” he said, looking apologetic.

“Oh,” she frowned in disappointment. She quite loved sitting amongst the flowers and reading in the sunshine. Even Ealdor had a small garden and it was where she’d hide if she wanted some time for herself. “I’d assumed that you’d have one,” she shook her head. “Never mind.”

“Do you enjoy spending your time in such places?” He asked curiously.

“Yes,” she nodded. “I have since I was a child. My mother was very meticulous with her gardening. I’d watch her spend hours a day planting and watering flowers, weeding and tidying the garden,” she said fondly, her hand coming up to fiddle with the locket around her neck. “I liked to spend my time amongst the flowers, it was peaceful and I could read until I fell asleep in the sun.”

“You like to read?” He questioned, a spark seeming to enter his eyes and his mouth twitched at the corners.

“I love to read,” she replied with a smile. “By the age of eight, I had read every book and tome my parents owned no matter their subject. I read medical tomes to learn and cross-reference, but when I can’t sleep or I’m upset or stressed, reading is my escape. During the war, it’s what helped me stay strong. It was an outlet for me.”

“I am the same with my sword,” he confessed. “When I find myself troubled or weary, I train.”

“It’s important to have something that allows you to escape from reality for a little while,” she nodded. “Anyway, I shall let you return to your training and I will find something to keep me occupied.”

“And what are your plans?”

“I’m not sure, I think I might take a walk into the city and do some exploring.”

“Hermione, you shouldn’t go into the city alone. It could be dangerous. Word will have spread that there is a visiting Princess, but they do not know your identity and there will be nothing stopping anyone from harming you.”

“I will be fine, Arthur,” she responded. “There is no need for you to worry about me, I am quite capable of taking care of myself.”

“Hermione, allow me to accompany you.”

“Arthur, you are clearly very busy with the Knights and it will be unfair of me to steal away your presence. When I came to Camelot, I had no intentions of taking you away from your duties. And if you accompany me, it will draw attention in which case, may put me in further danger.”

He frowned. “Hermione, I’m not comfortable with you being in the city alone. If you will not allow me to accompany you, please allow me to send guards to escort you.”

“Arthur, that will again draw attention,” she pointed out.

“I only wish to ensure your health and well-being.”

“I know and I appreciate that, but I have been on my own for a long time now, I may be in a different environment but nothing has changed.”

He was frowning deeply and his grip tightened on his sword until his knuckles went white. How was she supposed to deal with her feelings and squash them down when he was showing such concern for her? He was just making it more difficult for her!

Seeing that the thought of her being harmed was evidently upsetting him and she didn’t wish to do so, she sighed.

“If it would make you more comfortable, I shall find someone to walk with me. Where is Merlin? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind accompanying me.”

Arthur shook his head. “He is retrieving ingredients for Gaius.”

“Not to worry, I’m sure there is someone else available,” she smiled. “I shall see you later this evening, Arthur,” she smiled before turning and leaving the training field, feeling his eyes on her retreating back.

It was when she had left the entrance courtyard and stepped through the gates that she realised she hadn’t found anyone to accompany her but she really didn’t want to turn around when she was halfway there.

Slowly she made her way down the pathway until she reached the city. The market place reminded her very much of Diagon Alley only without the magic; it was bustling with life, children running around, vendors selling as many products as they could as their livelihood depended on it and shoppers slowly made their way around the market place, browsing the products on sale.

Hermione purchased a wicker basket from a young woman before she found herself mixed in within the crowd as she slowly perused the stalls with the vendors offering her deals on the items and all but begging she bought their products. Hermione was tempted to buy them but she had no need for such items, nor would she be able to carry them all home by herself so she remained strict, only buying a handful of apples, some cheese for Akela and she bought a lemon cake for herself to nibble on as she shopped.

She’d just left a stall that sold scarves and as she turned around, she bumped into someone, her basket falling to the ground but luckily nothing fell out.

“I’m so sorry...” Hermione spoke at the same time as the other voice had, and they both bent down to pick up the basket.

Looking up, Hermione blinked in surprise when she saw it was Gwen and when the future Queen realised who she was, her eyes widened and she stuttered in surprise.

“Your Highness, I did not mean to...”

“Guinevere,” Hermione interrupted. “It is fine. It was an accident, I am as much to blame as you are and there is no harm done, I assure you,” she smiled. “And please, my name is Hermione. I do not care for such a formal addressing, if I am being honest, it makes me uncomfortable and I would much rather the crowd not know who I am at this moment.”

They both rose to their feet and Gwen’s eyes searched her surroundings, a confused look settling across her face and Hermione knew why; she was noticing the lack of guards.

“It is not safe for you to be out on your own, Your...Hermione,” she corrected, shifting uncomfortably.

Hermione sighed. “Yes, Arthur spoke the same words and I refused his company as he is currently busy and I refuse to be followed around by guards; that will only draw attention. But I did promise him I would not come alone,” she said, looking to Gwen thoughtfully. “Say, Guinevere, if you are not otherwise occupied, would you like to accompany me around the city?”

“It would be an honour,” she replied, dropping into a curtsy and Hermione reached out with her hand to quickly stop her.

“There is no need for such a formality, Guinevere,” Hermione said. “Shall we get started?”

Gwen nodded. “Of course, and please call me Gwen.”

Hermione smiled and fell into step beside Gwen as they slowly navigated the market place.

“If you do not mind me saying, it was quite the surprise learning of your true identity.”

Hermione sighed softly. “It was a surprise for me, too,” she muttered beneath her breath. “My birth was kept a secret as my Kingdom was in times of war and my parents and I were sent away for our protection by the King, my Grandfather. I was not raised in a castle with servants and guards and Knights, which is why I do not care for such things, and it is why I am highly uncomfortable with being addressed so formally. I am more comfortable when surrounded by those without nobility and status, and I hold no care for such titles. I was raised to be independent, to never rely on others to do something that I may do for myself and so my handmaiden, Ginevra, is of no use to me.”

“Your handmaiden is Ginevra?” She questioned.

“Yes, do you know the girl?”

“I have met her twice but otherwise have had no interactions with her.”

Hermione nodded. “If you do not mind my asking, how does Lady Morgana treat you?”

Gwen blinked in surprise to the question, a frown pulling at her brow. “My Lady is kind to me, we have known one another for many years and we are friends.”

“I am happy to hear that, I know not everyone has the same fortune as yourself and Merlin. I am trying my best to be kind to Ginevra but she is proving to be difficult.”

“Difficult?”

“Yes, she cannot look me in the eye, she trembles when passing me things, she almost cried when I asked her to sit beside me. She is very quiet and I do believe she will not be my handmaiden for long. I have promised that whilst she is my handmaiden she is under my care and I will ensure she is safe and that she has anything she may need, but I may not be able to keep that promise for much longer.”

“Did you purchase the dress she was wearing last night at the feast?”

“Yes, and I have Hilda and Marcella making several more for her. The dress she was wearing upon our meeting was hardly suitable.”

“That was very generous of you,” Gwen replied with a surprised look in her eyes.

“I only wish to help any who may require it, no matter their station or requirements.”

“I know, I saw all you did for the people of Ealdor. Is that why you are here in Camelot? To help the people?”

“Yes, Ealdor no longer needs me and Arthur said there were people here who could benefit with my help.”

Gwen nodded. “Arthur is a good man, he argues for better care but until he is King he has little power over the council.”

Hermione saw the opportunity and took it. “Speaking of Arthur, is there any progress on your relationship?”

Gwen turned to look at her, giving her a look that all but said she was crazy. “Why would there be? There is nothing between Arthur and I. He is a good man but he can still be rude and arrogant, though I admit his tendency to be such has lessened slightly since meeting you. I am nothing but a servant and Arthur is a Prince. There will _never_ be anything between us. My heart belongs to Lancelot and Arthur is falling for you, Princess.”

Hermione spluttered, halting in her steps she rubbed at her throat with her free hand and Gwen gave her a look of concern.

“He is not,” she denied.

Gwen’s mouth twitched in amusement. “Princess, Arthur has never looked at a woman the way he looks at you, especially last night. You were the sole focus of his attention. He seems to _adore_ you and I would not be surprised if he wishes to ask for your hand in marriage. Now your identity had been revealed, I can’t imagine King Uther objecting to the union. You are both equals and there is nothing preventing you from being together. I know you care for the Prince, just as he only had eyes for you, the same can be said for you, too. Servants see everything when hidden in the shadows and I can see that you care for him. I have witnessed your kindness and bravery. You may be of royalty but with your upbringing, the people will relate to you. You are exactly what Arthur needs in a wife and what Camelot needs in a Queen.”

Hermione shook her head. “I cannot marry Arthur,” she said quietly.

“Oh? What exactly is stopping you, as I can see you _both_ have feelings for one another?” Gwen questioned before she continued with her steps, her attention being pulled by a flower vendor.

“You are,” Hermione whispered, a knot forming in her stomach at the thought of her ever possibly being able to marry Arthur.

It would never happen. It could never happen.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 12

"Do you happen to know of any properties that I may purchase?"

Gwen looked to her, pulling her attention away from the vendor selling bracelets made of leather and twine.

"Properties? For what purpose, might I ask?"

"If I'm to offer my services to the people of Camelot, I will need a premises in which to do it from. I don't believe King Uther would be pleased with civilians wandering the castle at all hours of the day."

Gwen frowned slightly. "And I can't imagine Arthur approving of you working in the city away from the safety of the castle."

"Arthur is beginning to understand that I only do as I please, that only I can make decisions regarding my life and that I find it difficult to take orders."

Gwen's mouth pulled into a smile, her eyes dancing with amusement, apparently finding her words funny.

"I foresee the Prince having a difficult few months," she replied, giving her head a light shake. "Well, this is the market place, if you wish to help others I would suggest being located in the heart of the city, it's a central point of access."

Hermione nodded and bit her lip thoughtfully. "Do you expect the properties to have a hefty price? Money is no object, I only wish to be prepared."

"You are new to the city, it is likely the owners will try to increase their prices but some will only sell to other nobles. It may be of your interest to reveal your identity."

"That is something I would like to avoid, if possible. If the people discover who I am, they may be intimated and refuse my help, they may visit only for the sake of seeing a Princess, taking my attention away from those that truly require my services, or some may wish to harm me."

"There will be risks involved," Gwen agreed. "I live in the lower part of the city where the less fortunate reside. The city centre is for those with wealth and station."

"Would you mind showing me the way?"

"Of course," she replied.

They left the market place and the walk to the centre of the city was a surprisingly short one and Hermione quickly noticed the differences. The homes were larger, the streets cleaner, the people dressed in finer quality clothing. As she and Gwen made their way down the streets, Hermione was aware of the glances she received from the citizens, their eyes darting between her and Gwen, noting the differences in their clothing.

Most of the buildings were occupied and it wasn't until they were about to leave the city centre when they happened across a stone hut that seemed to have been built away from the rest of the buildings purposely, making it so it was isolated and quiet. The building looked to be a little newer than the others and though it didn't appear to be as big, it was bigger than her own hut had been at the village and as this would only be used for medical purposes, it allowed for plenty of room. She hadn't yet seen inside but she didn't need to.

"Do you know who this belongs to?" Hermione asked Gwen.

The other woman spied the parchment nailed to the wooden door and stepped closer to peer at the words. She turned to Hermione a worried frown crossing her face.

"Thorley Harte, I have never met him personally but I have heard tale of his behaviour."

"Meaning?"

"He is not a nice man. He is not of nobility but he likes to think otherwise. I think it is best if we allow a representative of the throne to make contact with him."

"I am capable of handling men such as himself, Gwen. He is not the first I have dealt with and I'm certain he won't be the last."

"I did not mean to offend, Princess. I only wish to ensure your safety. He is known for being violent, particularly to his servants."

"Well that settles it, we will be visiting him _today_. If he is harming his servants, we shall put a stop to it. We do not have the time to return to the castle, so if you know where he resides, please take me to him."

"Princess..."

"Gwen, when my mind is made up I cannot be swayed."

Gwen looked conflicted but she reluctantly nodded, guiding Hermione back through the city until they stopped before a decently side building and without thought, Hermione stepped forward and knocked on the door.

A few moments later it was pulled open and a young woman who can't have been much older than her, stood on the other side, her eyes darting between Hermione and Gwen nervously. The moment Hermione spied the dark bruise surrounding her right eye and the split in her lip, her eyes darkened. She straightened her posture, her chin lifted and her mouth pulled into a thin line as she stepped forward.

"Good afternoon, I was wondering if I might be able to speak with the owner of the building that is for sale. I believe he resides here."

"Of course, I shall alert him to your presence, one moment please," she said quietly, the door closing once more.

Hermione strained her hearing for voices behind the door but could hear none and soon after, the door was pulled open. Stood on the other side was a balding man with a large rounded stomach, a large nose and blotchy cheeks. He wasn't much taller than her and he wore an outfit of brown and red, his clothing of a quality that he didn't look to be able to afford. He wasn't how Hermione had imagined him if she were honest. In fact, something about him reminded her of Peter Pettigrew. She disliked him instantly.

"What do you want?" He asked gruffly, sending a glare over his shoulder and Hermione heard shuffling that was followed by hurried footsteps.

Her eyes narrowed but she placed a sickly sweet smile on her face as she turned and handed her basket to Gwen, who took it with eyes that were darting between her and the man nervously.

"Good afternoon, are you the owner of the property at the end of the street?"

"Yes, why?"

"I am interested in purchasing it."

He looked her up and down before doing the same to Gwen. Hermione, feeling protective of the future Queen, stepped to the side and deliberately blocked her from his gaze.

"You cannot afford it."

"How would you know? You have not given me a price nor have you asked for my name."

"You are a woman, if you are interested in my property, send your husband to do business. It is a man's job."

Hermione _really_ didn't like him.

"I'm afraid I don't have a husband."

"Then I shall not sell to you," he sneered, moving to slam the door in her face but before he could her hand reached out, stopping it in place.

"Now, Thorley, is that any way to speak to a woman," she said.

His gaze darkened and his hand reached out to grasp at her wrist tightly. Hermione felt Gwen move forward, a gasp leaving her and she spared her a quick glance, seeing her wide eyes and horrified expression.

"I suggest you relinquish your hold before you dig yourself an even deeper hole, one I will not be able to help you out of."

"Oh, what are you going to do about it?" He sneered.

Hermione smiled. "It is not I you should be worried about, rather those that reign over Camelot."

"And why is that?" He asked, his grip tightening around her wrist and a wince left her.

"I am a guest of King Uther."

"Your Highness..." Gwen interrupted and her attention moved to the man. "You are currently assaulting Princess Hermione, she is under the protection of King Uther and Prince Arthur. I believe it would be in your best interest to release her before your punishment is execution."

He sneered at her and turned his eyes back to Hermione, deliberately giving her the once over.

"I don't believe for a second you're a Princess," he said, the look on his face all but saying she wasn't pretty enough to be royalty.

His grip tightened painfully, so much so she was certain to have bruises. "I gave you a warning so what happens next is of your own doing."

Before he could respond and being thankful he gripped her left wrist, she called forth the memory of the time she'd punched Draco Malfoy in the face and her right hand curled into a fist before she raised it, brought it back and hit him square in the nose. He'd never seen it coming.

Gwen let out a startled gasp and he cried out in pain as his nose crunched and blood poured from his nostrils, his grip on her wrist automatically dropping as he cradled his nose and stumbled back.

Hermione cleared her throat and calmly smoothed out her dress as she took a step back.

"I believe our business here is done, and to think, I was willing to pay twice your asking price. And I swear, if I hear of you harming a single servant, I shall return and do far worse damage. Good day, you horrible little man."

Hermione spun on her heel and walked away, hearing his yelling and threats and Gwen hurried after her.

"Your Highness..." She started, unsure of how to finish.

"I am capable of defending myself," Hermione spoke, rubbing at her aching wrist with the opposite hand. "I assure you, I have not yet finished with Thorley Harte. I can be kind, but I can just as vengeful. There are people that have crossed me and broken my trust who have learned the hard way that I am fiercely protective of those I care for. I do not care that he manhandled me, what I do care for is him laying hands on his servants and I wasn't quite fond of the way he was looking at you either."

"I don't understand," she admitted.

Hermione turned to look at the other woman. "We have had but few interactions, Gwen, but I like you. I consider you a friend," she responded and Gwen's eyes widened in surprise. "I have seen the look in that man's eyes before and I know what follows it. If he were given the opportunity, he wouldn't hesitate to force himself upon you." A horrified look crossed her face. "Exactly, I was more so defending you than I was myself."

"Where did you learn to do that?" She asked curiously.

A smile pulled at Hermione's mouth. "I was raised surrounded by boys who were very much my family; they thought it prudent that I was able to defend myself should I need to. Now, I've reconsidered and believe that the people who live in the city centre wouldn't much appreciate the homeless and poor being in their area, and seeing as they are the ones that will most need my help, we should find a building in the lower parts of the city."

"It will be dangerous," Gwen commented.

"No more dangerous than what we have just faced," Hermione argued. "If you wouldn't mind, I would like to visit those areas."

Gwen seemed hesitant but she did lead them towards the lower city and Hermione instantly noticed the difference. The streets were dirtier, the houses smaller and shabbier, the people dirty and hungry. Hermione's heart broke at the sight of a woman sat on the ground as she cradled a crying baby against her, looking as though all hope had been lost. Her heart broke at the sight of a group of children huddled together and they appeared to be playing a game with small pebbles, all of them looking as though they hadn't had a good meal in weeks.

"I have a lot to do," Hermione said quietly, her eyes darting about those on the street that needed care and attention. "I should like to start as soon as possible so finding a building is imperative."

They continued on their path until they stumbled upon a lone hut that sat in the centre of the lower city, it being the only building in sight. Hermione approached it, seeing that there was no sign with the owner's information should someone wish to purchase it, but it didn't appear to be lived in either.

She came to a stop before the door and gently pushed against it, it swinging open. Hermione shared a curious gaze with Gwen before stepping inside, immediately being assaulted by an unpleasant smell and seeing the hut empty except for a pile of blankets. Someone had been living there, squatting she realised.

"The owner likely passed," Gwen commented, her voice muffled as she covered her hand with her mouth. Hermione had faced worse smells.

"I may require more space but for the time being, it will be suitable for its purpose," Hermione spoke, her eyes darting about the single room as she planned out the layout in her mind, mentally positioning the examination table, the cots and the remedies cabinets.

There would be the risk of someone breaking in and stealing the remedies to later sell, but she could easily place a few security wards around the building to prevent that from happening. If her work proved to be successful, she could look into having a second, bigger building built, it's not like she couldn't afford it.

"Well, Gwen, today has been productive but now we should return to the castle as I'm sure dinner will not long since be served and I am expected to dine with King Uther, Arthur and Lady Morgana."

"Of course, " Gwen replied, stepping out of the hut and Hermione stayed a moment longer, knowing she'd have to scrub the room clean before anything else could be done. If she could get away with using magic to do so, she would.

Hermione nodded to herself before turning on her heel and stepping out of the hut, her breath being knocked out of her at the sight that met her.

The basket Gwen had been carrying no lay on the ground as she was being held with a dagger against her throat and a hand over her mouth by a young boy. His hair was a dirty blond, his eyes a deep blue and his skin tanned but filthy. His clothing was tatted and dirty and he stood taller than both herself and Gwen.

Gwen struggled against him but when the blade of the dagger pressed against her neck, she stilled instantly, her eyes wide with fear and tears as she stared at Hermione pleadingly. Whether or not it was that she help her or leave and save herself, she wasn't sure and she didn't care.

"There is no need for that," Hermione spoke softly, relaxing her face and her posture unthreatening. "What is your name?"

"Give me everything you have or I'll kill her," he said with false bravado. Hermione knew, she could see his hand shaking. He was just as scared as they were.

"I will," she promised, "As soon as you tell me your name."

He eyed her mistrustfully. "Charles."

 _Of course, it was_ , Hermione thought. She found it ridiculous that she kept meeting people with either the same names as those from home, or those that reminded her of those from home.

"I had a friend with the same name," Hermione replied. "Charles, I am Hermione and the woman you currently hold hostage is Gwen. We mean you no harm and I know you don't wish to harm us either. You're not capable of it."

"You don't know anything about me," he argued.

"I know you're young, how old are you?"

"What does that matter?"

"I would like to know."

"Fifteen, now give me everything you have," he spoke, pressing the blade against Gwen's neck a little harder.

"Fifteen," Hermione said sadly. "Where are your parents?"

"Dead."

Her heart broke. Fifteen was far too young to lose your parents and be on your own.

"Mine are, too," she said softly. "Are you doing this for yourself, or for others? I've seen many children in the streets. I know you don't trust me and I haven't given you a reason to, but I haven't given you a reason not to, either. I know that what I'm about to ask of you is a lot, but would you please put down the dagger. You are no killer."

"No, you'll do something to..."

"I won't," Hermione interrupted. "I promise and I never break a promise. All I ask is that you put down the dagger, you may still keep Gwen as a hostage if that would make you more comfortable, but you are frightening her and she has done nothing to you, has she?"

He looked conflicted before he slowly lowered the dagger down to his side.

"Thank you," she smiled, turning her attention to Gwen. "Are you hurt, Gwen?" She asked.

Gwen shook her head, her mouth still being covered by Charles' hand and although her eyes were still wide with fear, Hermione noted the slight way her body relaxed.

"Charles, are you doing this for yourself?"

"No," he admitted. "I have three brothers."

Hermione didn't think her heart was able to break again and it just had with those words. Hermione's face softened more than it already had done so.

"You are the eldest?"

"Yes, Harrow is twelve, Farley is nine and Kenelm is five."

"Godric," she whispered, her head and heart aching. "Charles, I would like to make a deal but first, please release Gwen. You have a weapon, we do not. Neither of us have any ill intentions towards you."

He once more looked conflicted but his hand moved from her mouth and his arm came away from her neck and she let out a gasp, springing forward and over to her.

"Your High..."

Hermione shook her head, signalling for her to not finish her words and she gently pushed the slightly smaller woman behind her, knowing she felt scared and unsafe.

"Thank you, Charles. Here's my offer, anything that is in that basket you may have. It may not be enough for the four of you, but it is all I have with me at the moment and I know the market place is now closed and I cannot buy you anything more. You will find some apples, cheese and bread to tie you over this evening, be sure not to allow them to eat it too quickly as it will unsettle their stomachs."

He eyed her strangely before slowly bending to pick up the basket, peering inside and his eyes widened. Whilst the amount of food may not have meant much to her, it seemed it was more food than he'd seen in a while.

"In exchange for the food, I would like for you to meet me here tomorrow morning and please bring your brothers."

"Why?"

Hermione smiled at him. "I shall explain tomorrow, but know that I mean neither you nor your brothers any harm. I know that should you come tomorrow, you shan't regret it."

"I'll think about it," he replied, shoving the dagger back up his sleeve before slowly backing away, keeping his eyes on her until he was far enough away that she wouldn't be able to harm him, and then he turned and ran.

"Are you well, Gwen?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, thank you, I think you just saved my life," she said, her shaking hand rubbing at her throat.

Hermione smiled. "That boy was unlike Thorley, he did not have it in him to harm you. He was merely banking on frightening me into submission. You heard as well as I, he only did what he did out of love and fear for his brothers. Fifteen is such a young age to take on the responsibility of a carer," she sighed softly.

"How did you remain calm?"

"I have been in worse situations than this one," Hermione smiled with fond sadness. "You know that I was to be executed before you arrived at Ealdor and Arthur saved my life. He was just a frightened boy who needs someone to show him kindness. But enough of that, we best return to the castle."

~000~000~000~

"Enter," Hermione called softly.

She'd not long since returned to the castle and she'd headed straight to her chambers to change into a fresh dress ready for dinner with King Uther, Arthur and Lady Morgana. The moment she'd stepped into her chambers Akela had been beside her, sniffing at her as though he _knew_ she'd had a few bad interactions that afternoon and he even sent her a glare, as if it were her fault.

She'd been selecting a dress, deciding between a soft purple or a deep red when there'd been a knock on the door. She wasn't expecting anyone in particular but the most likely visitor had been Merlin, that was why she was surprised when the door opened and Arthur stepped inside.

She peeked her head through to the other room, seeing the Prince's eyes carefully scanning the room, landing on the wolf lounging by the recently lit fireplace and then they locked on her. In a move she hadn't been expecting, he stormed across the room and over to her, his hands gently wrapping around her upper arms, his eyes darting over her from and moving from head to toe and back again.

"What were you thinking?" He demanded, his eyes wide with disbelief and concern and he gently shook her in his hold.

She frowned. "You'll have to be more specific, Arthur."

"Guinevere told me what happened!" His voice rose slightly.

 _Damn, tattletale_ , she thought in annoyance.

"I am fine,"

"You could've been killed!"

"I think you're being a little overdramatic," she responded.

"Overdramatic? Overdramatic!"

"Yes, overdramatic," she echoed, very much wanting to cross her arms but she couldn't with his hold on her.

"He had a dagger pressed to Guinevere's throat!"

"And she is fine. He was just a boy, a scared boy who has three starving little brothers to care for. I was able to convince him to lower his weapon and release Gwen. He wouldn't have harmed either of us; he didn't have it in him. I know a killer when I see one, Arthur, and he most certainly was _not_ one."

Arthur, sensing he wasn't going to win the argument, slowly took a deep breath to calm himself.

"I know what happened with Thorley Harte and I assure you, he _will_ be punished for laying his hands on you," he said, his voice softening despite the anger held in his eyes.

"I can look after myself."

His mouth tugged into a proud smile. "Guinevere said you broke his nose."

"Yes, I was raised surrounded by older, overprotective boys. They thought it best I know how to defend myself. I don't care that he harmed me, I didn't care for the way he was looking at Gwen and thought it best to get us both away from him before any more damage could be done. He is also abusive towards his servants, which I will not stand for. I have every intention of returning tomorrow and pulling them from his care."

"You should have allowed the guards to escort you, none of this would have happened."

"That's true, but then I would have never gotten to spend time with Guinevere and form a friendship with another woman. I would have never met Thorley or known about his abusive tendencies towards his servants. I would have never met Charles or learned of his circumstances. Everything happens for a reason, Arthur, that is something I've learned and something I believe in."

"Hermione, if you would have gotten hurt, I would never forgive myself for not being there to defend you," he spoke softly, his hand coming up to cup her cheek.

No matter how much she wanted to revel in his touch, how much she wanted to lean in closer, and she _really_ did, she couldn't allow it. She couldn't allow herself to fall for him any more than she already had. It wasn't meant to be for them and she had to do her best to keep her distance without avoiding him or hurting his feelings. She had to get him to fall for Guinevere no matter how much it may hurt.

She pulled back from him, stepping out of his hold and turning on her heel to head over to the two dresses she'd hung up on the cabinet-wardrobe doors, missing his look of hurt as she did so.

"Now that we've established I am perfectly fine, I need a second opinion, red or purple?" She asked, holding the two dresses up for him to see.

He blinked slowly, his eyes darting between her face and the dresses before he cleared his throat.

"Red," he answered.

She nodded, putting the purple dress away until tomorrow. "Well, I best change for dinner, I shall see you down in the hall in a little while."

~000~000~000~

Hermione had expected to wander the castle until she found the correct room, however, the moment she stepped out of her chambers, Arthur had been stood leaning against the wall, looking as though he'd been patiently waiting for her.

He'd given her a dazzling smile before escorting her to dinner which was held in a room only slightly smaller than the banquet hall but it was very much decorated the same. Morgana and King Uther had already been present and after curtseying and exchanging pleasantries, she and Arthur had taken a seat at the table. She hadn't been blind to the fact he'd offered her the chair beside himself rather than Morgana.

Once dinner was served, they waited until King Uther started eating until they picked up their own utensils and quietly ate.

"How has your first day in Camelot been, Princess?" King Uther asked her.

"Eventful, Your Grace," she responded, spying Arthur taking a deep breath and glowering down at his place, spearing a piece of chicken with his fork harder than was necessary. "Camelot is truly beautiful, but I have witnessed the difference in the central and lower parts of the city. I came here to help as many people as I could and I plan to start first thing tomorrow morning."

"Start what?" Arthur asked.

"When I was in the lower city with Guinevere, we happened upon an abandoned building. Whilst it is small, it will suit my needs for the time being and until I am able to find a bigger premises to operate out of. There are many people in the lower city that need medical attention but some of them just need someone to show them kindness."

"They cannot afford medical treatment," Arthur spoke.

"I have more than enough funds hidden away to provide the care they need."

"You plan to provide treatment for free?" Morgana asked, looking surprised.

"Yes, what good is having wealth if you are not able to use it to better those that are less fortunate? The building will need a clean but that shan't take long and I need to acquire a few items and some furniture, but once I have done so, I can start helping those that need it."

Arthur looked torn between pride and concern. "Hermione, you are in the lower parts of the city, it will be dangerous for you to be alone."

"No more dangerous than any other part of the city," she said, and his eyes darkened at the reminder of what had happened to her. "And I plan to keep my identity a secret so there is no chance of anyone wishing me harm or to use me to get to you. Only the nobles have seen my face, the rest of the city is unaware of my identity, whether they know of my presence in Camelot or not."

"I'm not comfortable with you being out there by yourself."

"I can take care of myself just fine."

"I'm not saying you can't, Hermione. But if there is more than one wishing you harm you will be defenceless, I don't want another bandits situation."

"You need to have more faith in the people, Arthur. Not all of them are capable of atrocities."

"But some of them are," he argued. "I only want what is best for your well-being and being out in the city alone certainly isn't," he said, giving her a pointed look and she felt her eyes darting down to her bruised wrist, being glad for the sleeves as she was sure he'd lose his temper and Thorley would find himself being executed.

"I am in agreement with Arthur," King Uther interrupted her retort and both she and Arthur looked to him as if they were only just remembering that he was there, too. "Your safety is what matters most and when you are no longer within the castle walls, you are without protection. You wish to help the citizens and we wish to ensure your safety, I believe a compromise is in order. If you leave the castle grounds, you are to be escorted either by a Knight, guard or Arthur himself. If you are in the city, there will be two guards assigned to you at all times."

Hermione really didn't care for such security and whilst she could argue with Arthur without repercussions, she couldn't do the same with the King.

"Yes, Your Grace," she said, turning her attention to her food and catching Arthur's thankful expression he sent his father's way.

That's just what she needed, bodyguards being around her twenty-four-seven. How in the name of Merlin was she to create some of her remedies and prepare the building without the aid of her magic?

Being in Camelot was a lot harder than she'd thought it would be. If it wasn't keeping her magic a secret, it was doing her absolute best to guard her heart and not fall for Arthur any more than she already had.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 8

Hermione's start to the morning hadn't been all that pleasant. She'd been awake and dressed for the day long before Ginevra had the chance to wake her. When the young girl had arrived with breakfast, she'd spilt Hermione's tea all over the small dining table and almost dropped her food but luckily Hermione had been able to save it.

Ever since, Ginevra had been a sniffling, shaking mess as she stood by the door, eyes downcast whilst Hermione ate as much of her food as she could manage, noticing that there was surprisingly more than there had been the previous day.

Once she'd finished her breakfast and Ginevra returned her dishes to the kitchens, Hermione took the opportunity to add a hidden pocket into her soft purple dress, conjured a small pouch and placed a handful of coins inside before stashing it in her pocket. By the time she'd finished, Ginevra returned and with the young girl and Akela by her side, they left her chambers.

They headed through the castle and towards the entrance courtyard where annoyingly, Hermione found two guards who stood to attention as soon as she came into view. They both wore brown breeches tucked into brown leather boots, a red tunic bearing a golden dragon on the chest, chainmail and a helmet and they both carried spears and swords were strapped to their hips.

"Your Highness," the first spoke as they both bowed. "We have been assigned to escort you out of the castle for your protection."

"Wonderful," she muttered. She shouldn't have been surprised as King Uther had ordered it, but still, she'd hoped he would change his mind. "In that case, please remove your helmets so I may look upon the faces of my protectors."

They shared a surprised glance before reaching up with their free hand to remove their helmets, showing their faces. They were younger than Hermione had thought they would be, maybe in their early-twenties but definitely no older. They both had tanned skin but one was a shade lighter than the other, they both had dark green eyes but were one had short dark hair, the other had shaggier blonde hair. She wondered of their parentage as they both had pointed and angular features, something that was often considered to be features of aristocracy.

"And what are your names?"

Again, they shared a glance, likely having never been asked such a question by a royal or noble.

"I am Emerick," the blonde spoke.

"I am Michel," the other said.

"Well, Emerick, Michel, I am certain you have already been told who I am, but I shall introduce myself, I am Hermione. I don't care for being addressed so formally, so if you would prefer it, you may call me by my given name. I know your presence in the city will cause suspicion but I would like to keep my identity a secret for as long as possible, so please, try not to address me so when in crowded areas," she said, their eyes widening in further surprise. "This is Akela," she gestured to the large wolf at her side and gave him a pet on the head when he nudged at her hand.

When she brought note to the wild animal, she saw their forms stiffen as their eyes darted to him nervously, curiously, suspiciously. Akela simply gave them a look, Hermione taking it to mean he most definitely _didn't_ approve of her having guards as he took it as an insult that the King didn't think he was capable of protecting her just fine by himself. She barely held in her snort of amusement; it was best not to scare the guards any more than she already had with such unladylike behaviour.

"Like you, he will be with me to protect me from harm. If you leave him be, he won't bother you. And this is Ginevra," she introduced, gesturing behind her with a tip of her head, hearing the young girl let out a squeak and she sighed in annoyance. "She is my handmaiden for the time being, that may very well change if she does not prove herself capable of handling me when I am at my worst," she said, sending the young girl a pointed look over her shoulder. "Have you been informed why it is I need a guard?"

"We have only been instructed to be with you whenever you leave the castle grounds, Your Highness," Michel answered.

"I am a trained physician and as of this morning, I shall be opening a medical practice in the lower part of the city to offer free treatment and care for those who require it but are unable to afford it."

Again, they shared a surprised glance. She wasn't certain if it were due to her being a Princess or if it were due to her being a woman.

"You will quickly come to understand that I am not like other Princesses and noblewoman you may have seen or met. I truly care for others more than I do for myself and I have made it my life's goal to help as many as I am able to. I have done all I can for those in my previous village and have now come to Camelot to do the same. As I wish for the people to feel unthreatened by your presence, I ask that you leave your spears behind."

"Your Highness..."

"You may carry your swords," she interrupted Michel. "Between Akela and yourself, I'm certain you can manage a protection detail. As for your helmets, I am aware it is rather warm this morning and if you would prefer to not wear them, I have no issues. Again, the people may feel less threatened if they are able to see your faces. Now that we've gotten the introductions over with, I've a lot to do this day so we best be leaving."

Hermione strode forward with Akela following at her side, Ginevra behind her and the guards positioned slightly behind her to give her enough room to not feel uncomfortable, but they were close enough to protect her if needs be. The thought alone had Hermione rolling her eyes; she was quite capable of defending herself so long as she wasn't outnumbered.

They made their way to the market place, Hermione purchasing a larger basket than the one she had the previous day. She received far too many looks to count, gasps being heard when the people spotted the large wolf beside her and their eyes darting between her, Akela and the guards, and she was given a wide berth as she passed. She headed straight for the bread vendor and purchased a few loaves, placing them inside her basket but before she left, a thoughtful look crossed her face.

"What is your name?" Hermione asked the older man, his dark eyes darting between her, Akela and the guards.

"Bartelot," he answered, his voice deeper than she'd expected.

"Bartelot, how many loaves of bread are you able to bake in a single day?"

He eyed her curiously. "How many do you require?"

A smile pulled at Hermione's mouth. "Good answer. How many loaves of unsold bread do you find yourself left with at the end of the day?"

"How many do you require?" He repeated.

Hermione's smile widened. "I think you and I are going to get on very well. Would you please pack up everything that you find you have been unable to sell?"

"And if that amount equals half of this day's product?"

"I assure you, I am able to afford such a price," she said.

His eyes moved back to the guards, staring at the golden dragon, the symbol of the Pendragons and he put the pieces together, understanding that if she had royal guards, she was important. She was grateful he didn't comment on it or ask for her name.

"I shall do as you ask."

"Excellent," she beamed. "There will be someone by later in the day to collect the loaves though it may not be myself. Have a lovely day, Bartelot and it was a pleasure doing business with you."

She turned and walked away, ignoring the stares of the vendors and the shoppers as her eyes darted about the other products for sale.

"Your Highness," Michel stepped up beside her and she sent him a narrowed gaze at his addressing but he'd said it quietly enough no one had heard so she didn't comment.

"Yes, Michel?" She questioned.

"If you do not mind my asking, what do you intend to do with the bread?"

"Give it to the hungry and poor."

"You intend to purchase them yourself and give them away for free?" He asked, his eyes widening.

Hermione couldn't understand why so many were always shocked that someone was kind enough to help those that needed.

"Yes, what good is having wealth if I don't use it to help those in need?" She replied, walking away and over to a cheese vendor, leaving behind his shocked expression.

After purchasing some cheese, of which Hermione had to pay for only because Akela's large form had 'accidentally' nudged the table and eaten the cheese that had fallen to the ground, she had a quick chat about purchasing the remainder of the leftover produce at the end of the day and then she continued on her way around the market place, until she reached a vendor that sold clothing items.

It was clear to Hermione that the quality wasn't up to the standards of Hilda and Marcella, but the older woman had done the best with what resources she had available to her. Hermione's eyes darted over the available items, noticing that the number of women's clothing far outweighed that for men's but she believed there was just enough for what she needed.

After purchasing breeches, tunics, shirts and boots in different sizes -of which she knew wouldn't fit and she'd had to alter them magically later- she purchased some apples and a few pies, again, making a deal with the vendor, before she came to the end of the market and headed in the direction of the city centre.

When she reached the beginning of the street that housed the awful Thorley Harte, she realised that she couldn't hear Ginevra's mumbling or the sound of the guard's boots on the pathway and she came to a stop, looking over her shoulder and blinking in surprise when she saw that she was alone, it was just her and Akela.

Frowning in confusion, she cast her mind back to the market place and wondered where she may have lost them and then she remembered, a fight had broken out between a farmer and a buyer accusing him of selling a diseased goat and it had drawn a crowd, everyone seeming to forget about her and her wolf. It was most likely she'd lost the guards and Ginevra during the incident.

She looked down the street and then behind her, her teeth sinking into her lip as she made a decision. She knew that if Arthur ever found out, he'd be furious that she'd walked the city without the guards escorting her, but she didn't have time to waste and there was no point in turning around and searching for them, not when she was already where she needed to be. She was sure they'd find her soon enough and she had Akela by her side; he would protect her if needs be, the only thing that could distract him were rabbits and she was certain they wouldn't see such an animal in a city centre with plenty of foot traffic, so she was safe.

Taking a breath, she adjusted her posture and raised her chin high, swapping the heavy basket from being carried on one arm to the other and she strode forward, spying that Akela's posture seemed to change, too, becoming cautious and ready to pounce should he need to. She marvelled at the bond they shared, at how he seemed to be able to pick up on her emotions and behaviour and change his own to mimic hers.

As expected, she received strange, frightened looks from those in the streets; women gasping or letting out a cry of surprise, men giving her a wide berth and children being shoved behind their parents. Hermione was honestly getting tired of the sight.

She approached Thorley's home and set the basket down on the ground off to the side before wrapping her knuckles against the door and taking a step back, allowing her room to move should he decide to kill her on sight.

The door opened and Hermione's eyes darkened at the sight of the young woman from the day before, her split lip and black eye looking no better but now she was sporting a cut to her cheek and what looked to be a scold on her left hand.

"Hello, I'm not sure if you remember, but I was here yesterday afternoon."

The young woman nodded, her eyes darting over her shoulder before she leaned forward and whispered, "You are the one that broke Master's nose."

Hermione's lip twitched, she couldn't stop it. "I am, yes,"

"I was punished,"

Hermione's face softened. "I am sorry, he grabbed me and refused to let go and I didn't care for the way he was looking at my friend, I was only trying to protect her. But after today, I promise you will be safe from him. Will you please alert him to my presence and then return? For your safety, I ask that you stay behind me." She eyed her carefully before they widened when she noticed Akela stood beside her. "He won't hurt you, I promise. Now, please fetch Thorley."

The young woman held her gaze on Akela before she closed the door and a few moments later, it reopened and she all but ran out of the stone building, cowering at the side of the building to the left.

"Akela, hide on the right, only attack if he puts his hands on me," she instructed.

It was clear her wolf wasn't pleased with her words but he listened, moving to the right until he could only be seen if Thorley were to step out of the door.

The moment Thorley came into view, fury crossed his face as his skin reddened, his teeth bared in a snarl and Hermione knew instantly he hadn't sought medical attention for his nose. He stormed forward with his hands reaching out as if he were going to strangle her and she took a step backwards, putting more space between them.

"Hello, Thorley, it's a lovely morning, is it not?" She greeted politely. "I say, what happened to your nose? You look as though you lost a fight with a wall, let me guess, you'd drank too much ale and fell. Oh my, you really must be more careful," she chided.

She took a second step back when his hands reached out once more and his face was no longer red, but looked to be turning purple. Had she ever seen Ron such a colour? She didn't think so.

"Well, I am sure you're wondering whilst I am here, so I won't keep you waiting any longer. My purpose is simple; to release any servants that may be under your care. They no longer belong to you. And as for the property, I am no longer interested in purchasing it as I've found a more suitable location and building that better fits my purpose. If only you weren't such a horrid little man you'd be able to afford the clothing you currently sport. You are aware that dressing like a noble does not make you one, yes?"

"You _whore_ ," he snarled, lunging forward.

Just as his hands made to close around her throat, a vicious snarl sounded and a flash of dark-silver was all that Hermione could see before cries and gasps surrounded from around her, Thorley let out an agonised cry and Akela was stood over Thorley, as he was sprawled on the ground with Akela's sharp teeth firmly sunk into his forearm, growls sounding from him.

"Good boy, Akela," Hermione praised softly, stepping up beside the wolf and looking down at Thorley's terrified, agonised expression as she gently ran her hand through Akela's soft fur. She wasn't entirely certain who he was more afraid of, her or the wolf.

She could feel her magic swarming through her body in anger, she could feel her hair seeming to frizz up as it was dying to be released, she could hear her heart pounding in her own ears and if she were to look in a mirror, she would see that her eyes were dark, her features no longer soft and kind, her smile no longer friendly. Rather, she looked cold and vindictive.

This wasn't the Hermione that taught children to read, that cared for others without expecting anything in return, that was kinder than any one person ought to be.

This was the Hermione that had cursed Marietta Edgecombe, that had broken Draco Malfoy's nose, that had led Umbridge into a trap that led to her being carried away by a heard of centaurs. This was the darker side that she didn't often show.

"Please, keep fighting," she said, her voice far too soft for her cold eyes and vindictive smile and it made it all the more frightening. "He loves is when his prey presents a challenge. However, if you should wish to prevent further injury, I suggest you remain still, otherwise, you risk tearing the muscles and him breaking through the bone. Actually, at the moment he is preventing blood loss but the moment he releases you I suspect you will feel lightheaded and nauseous. But, he will only release you when _I_ instruct him to do so."

"Then do it, you puterelle," he managed to snarl through the pain.

Hermione tipped her head to the side. "That hurts my feelings, Thorley," she said quietly. "Unfortunately for you, my wolf is _very_ intelligent and is able to understand anything that is being said to him or anything he may overhear and he is quite protective of me. As such, I cannot imagine him being pleased with you right now."

As if to prove her words, Thorley let out a cry when Akela seemed to tighten his grip on his forearm and he snarled viciously.

"See?" She asked, running her hand over Akela's back before pulling back and clasping her hands before her body delicately as she stared down at him. "Now that I have your attention, let's begin. Any servants that are in your home or under your servitude are to be released. No harm is to come to them in the process and once they leave, should you wish harm upon them I shall return with my lovely wolf and have a little _talk_ over some tea. Should you attempt to harm either myself or my wolf, I must inform you that you most certainly will regret it. Should you acquire other servants once I have left, I will again return, free them of your horrid ways and we shall have another talk until you are able to comprehend what it is I am telling you. Agreed?" She asked, but he let out a snarl and made as if to stand and lunge at her, only Akela's weight and his hold on his arm kept him from doing so. "I shall not call him off until I receive the answer I wish to hear. Are we in agreement?"

"Yes," he spat.

"Excellent," she smiled, taking a step away from him. "Akela, release him," she instructed but the wolf didn't seem to want to as he let out a disagreeing growl. "Akela," she called a little firmer and slowly he unlocked his jaw from around Thorley's arm and backed up away from him until he stood beside her.

Thorley pushed himself into a sitting position and cradled his arm against his chest, blood making its presence known as it ran down his hand and soaked through his shirt.

"Oh my, that looks nasty; you should get that seen to as soon as possible," she said with a frown of concern before looking down to her wolf, seeing the blood that stained his mouth. "Well done," she praised. "I shall buy you as much cheese as you can eat," she promised, scratching him behind the ears before turning her eyes back to Thorley as he glared daggers at her.

Her eyes closed and she took a deep breath, reigning in her magic, forcing herself to list the twelve uses of dragon's blood, forcing herself to remember a happier time in her life and then she breathed out slowly, releasing her anger and locking away that side of her. When her eyes fluttered open, the darkness was gone, her features were kind and soft and her smile was easy and friendly.

"How many servants do you own, Thorley?"

"One," he spat.

Hermione's eyes darted to the young woman only she was no longer cowering, rather than being frightened by what she'd witnessed, she seemed surprised. There was a spark in eyes that Hermione knew well. She was _pleased_ he'd been terrified, injured. That someone had stood up to him. She was pleased that he'd gotten a taste of his own medicine.

"Then she is now free. It was a pleasure doing business with you and I quite enjoyed our discussion," she smiled.

She reached for her basket, picked it up, settled it on her arm and then smoothed out her dress.

"Goodbye, Thorley," she spoke, before turning and her heel and walking down the street, ignoring the horrified, curious, suspicious glances and whispers that followed her.

It wasn't until she heard horrified gasps and cries, louder than previously that she was alerted to something being wrong. It wasn't until she heard a shout of "Doxy," and a vicious snarl from her wolf, that she knew to turn around. And it wasn't until she heard the sound of Akela throwing his weight into something and it crashed against the ground, metal clashing against the floor and a familiar voice, that she turned around.

"Do not move!"


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 13

Slowly, she turned her body to face in the opposite direction, her eyes widening at the sight of a sharp and deadly sword being pressed against Thorley's throat beneath his chin as he laid sprawled on the ground, Akela snarling and crouched low beside him and a beam of sunlight shining down on the dagger that lay forgotten.

That sword was held by none other than Prince Arthur and he looked _furious_. He stood over Thorley's body, his form tense, his shoulders bunched tightly, his hand held down by his side and clenched into a fist, his jaw locked, teeth clenched and face set hard. Hermione had honestly never seen someone so angry; not Thorley, not Harry, not Ron...Arthur was by far the worst. His voice had been cold, calm and commanding. Gone was the kind and charming Prince she knew and he was replaced by a warrior, a Knight, a Prince.

"What you have done is treason and I have no choice but to arrest you for crimes against the throne."

Thorley's expression was far more terrified than he'd shown with her and Akela. His face had paled, sweat slicked at his skin, his body shook and he seemed to have forgotten about his injured arm and the wolf stood beside him, snarling threateningly. His horrified gaze was locked on Arthur's face, obviously knowing _exactly_ who he was.

Hermione supposed she should feel sorry for him. She was under the protection of King Uther and from what she could gather, Thorley had attempted to kill her with a dagger when her back had been turned but was stopped from doing so by Akela and Arthur, who had shown up out of nowhere. He had a habit of saving her life, she realised, this being the third time he'd done so since meeting. He was like her very own Knight in shining armour, but when the thought crossed her mind she shook it off violently. Arthur would never and could never be hers. He belonged with Gwen.

"S-S-Sire?" He stuttered. "I..."

"Silence," Arthur commanded and there was not a sound to be heard on the entire street, even Akela had quietened down. "I not only heard your insults, but I witnessed your attempt on Princess Hermione's life, and I am not the only one."

Whispers picked up and Hermione barely held in her sigh; well, so much for keeping her identity a secret. Soon enough word would spread through the city. It was likely they'd already known she was there after the feast, but only the nobles had seen her face. She'd give it to the end of the day before she couldn't walk down the street without being recognised.

Thorley's eyes darted to hers briefly, his horrified expression seeming to worsen. Hermione genuinely thought he was going to faint.

"My friend explained to you yesterday afternoon who I was, yet you refused to believe her. I believe you thought I wasn't pretty enough to be a Princess," she said, swapping the basket to the other arm when it started to hurt.

Arthur's frame seemed to stiffen further at her words and she didn't think it was possible. He was wound so tightly so was a little worried he'd injure himself.

"Princess Hermione is under an order of protection by King Uther Pendragon and by laying hands on her, you have committed an act of treason, of which, is punishable by death."

Sweat beaded down the side of Thorley's face.

"You will be taken to the dungeons, your case will be presented to King Uther and he shall make a decision on the outcome of your punishment. I know my father and I know his thoughts on traitors, I expect your execution to be announced no later than tomorrow morning and for it to occur the following evening."

"S-S-Sire, please?" Thorley begged.

"It is not I you must beg for forgiveness," Arthur replied.

Thorley's eyes darted to her. "Neither is it I," Hermione spoke. "I may be the one you tried to harm, but you are the one that did so and that committed treason. Your only chance of survival is convincing King Uther that you wish to atone for your sins. But given the circumstances of you laying hands on me, insulting me and making _two_ attempts on my life, I highly doubt you will be successful in your endeavours."

She wasn't one to believe in execution as a punishment given the times she'd been raised in when it was outlawed, but now she was in a time when it was acceptable, when it was common. She ought to feel sorry for Thorley, she ought to speak with King Uther and try and convince him to find another form of punishment, but not only did she know it would be a waste of her time, she couldn't find it in herself to care, not even a tiny shred of it. She wasn't sure if that worried her or not.

"What will happen to his wealth and properties?" Hermione asked.

Arthur didn't look at her, his attention being solely on Thorley. "Unless he has family, it will go to waste."

"Do you have family?" Hermione asked the man with a raised eyebrow.

"No," he muttered.

Hermione's eyes lit up. "Well, that is just perfect," she replied. She turned her eyes to the servant. "What is your name?"

"Kaelyn," she answered.

"Kaelyn, should Thorley be executed for his crimes, all of his wealth and assets will be transferred to you. I believe that is repayment enough for his behaviour and actions against you."

The young woman's eyes widened and her mouth fell open, unable to speak in surprise.

"You can't do that!" Thorley found the courage to yell.

Arthur's sword pressed a little harder against his throat. "No? But I can, and I am in agreement with Princess Hermione. All of your assets shall lawfully belong to any and all of your servants in the event of your death. If there is more than one, they shall be divided equally between them, if not, then Kaelyn shall be the full recipient."

Hermione wasn't sure if she should be surprised that Arthur had agreed with her words so easily. She was certain it wasn't a conventional decision as usually any assets would either be transferred to the royal family as repayment, or they would be left until everything had been pillaged.

"And make no mistake; my father is not a very forgiving man in such circumstances."

Two Knights she didn't recognise stepped forward from seemingly out of nowhere and grabbed Thorley by the arms in preparation to pull to him to his feet before sending Arthur a glance as he had yet to step back and allow them the room they needed.

"Sire?" They both spoke.

Arthur snapped to attention, his head lifting and his gaze leaving Thorley as he looked to his Knights questioningly. Releasing a slow, deep breath he removed the blade of his sword from beneath Thorley's chin and he took a reluctant step back, his grip on his sword tight as he held it down by his side and he watched as Thorley was pulled to his feet roughly, a sound of pain leaving him as his injured arm was jostled.

"Take him straight to the dungeons and inform my father of the happenings this day. I shall return to the castle to speak with him as soon as I am able," Arthur instructed.

"Sire," they both said with a tip of their heads.

They dragged Thorley away from them and down the street, Hermione watching as Akela sent her a glance before he followed after them. She knew that if Thorley attempted to escape, he'd kill him, though she was surprised to see the Knights barely bat an eyelash at the sight of the large wolf following them.

She stole a glance of her surroundings, seeing the people whispering as their eyes darted between her, Arthur and the Knights and she blinked in surprise when she noticed that there were five other Knights surrounding them, as well as a shaking Ginevra and two chastised looking guards, Michel and Emerick.

She cleared her throat and shifted the heavy basket from one arm to the other. "Well, that escalated quickly."

Her words seemed to pull Arthur away from his glaring at the retreating back of Thorley and his eyes snapped to her, his gaze intense, making her feel as though he were looking into her very soul. The fury that sparked in his now dark eyes seemed to settle as he took a calming breath, sheathed his sword and within a few strides, he was stood before her.

His eyes and face softened and his hands came to her face, holding her gently but firmly as his gaze darted across her face in search of injuries. His touch seemed to set her very skin on fire and she tried to pull back from him but his hold on her was steady, refusing to let go. Once his eyes had scanned the rest of her body, they darted back up to her eyes and their gazes locked. She almost gasped at the way the anger and concern suddenly shone through, his gaze intense and unrelenting.

"What were you thinking?" He said, his worry for her and his fury at what had happened breaking through into his tone though he'd spoken quietly enough that only she would be able to hear. "The guards are for your protection, you could've been _killed_! You _almost_ were!"

She barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes at his overprotectiveness, knowing it would only instigate an argument between them and it certainly shouldn't be witnessed by people in the streets.

"First of all, it wasn't my fault. There was a fight in the market place and I was separated from Ginevra and the guards by accident. I didn't know until after I'd arrived here. I knew it best to not go in search of them as chances are we would've missed each other. Ginevra knew my plans for this morning so it was best I stay where I was until they found me. Also, I was _not_ alone as I had Akela by my side and he has proven he is very capable of protecting me should I need it."

Despite the slight twitch to his mouth at the mention of her wolf, his eyes seemed to darken.

"You should have waited for the guards before approaching Thorley. You shouldn't have approached him at all. I gave my word he would be punished for laying his hands on you."

"Yes, but I knew there was a young woman that needed protection, too, and it was best I get her away from him as soon as I possibly could. Akela protected me when he tried to cause me harm and he quickly understood that I am not someone to be trifled with. There is a side to me, Arthur. A side you would not believe I have as I keep it well hidden and it only appears when I feel it is necessary. I'm not as kind or compassionate as you believe me to be. When the time calls for it, I am vengeful and vindictive. I have a temper. When I see an injustice, I right it. I have done things that you would not believe me capable of and I do not regret my actions no matter how terrible they may be. I'm not who you think I am, Arthur, and the sooner you understand and accept that, the better it will be for the both of us," she said, pulling herself away from him and his hands fell down to his sides as he eyed her with a questioning, curious gaze.

She took a breath and reached up to push a fallen curl behind her ear, it having escaped from the pins during the debacle.

"Though I did not require your protection as Akela more than proved himself, I thank you for your help, Arthur. This is the third time since our meeting that you have come to my aid."

He took a calming breath, his hands clenching into fists before releasing and the tension seemed to melt from him as his posture though perfect, seemed to relax.

"You seem to attract danger," he commented, amusement and concern in his tone.

Hermione's mouth pulled into a smile. "That observation is entirely correct," she replied. "One day, I just might tell you of my childhood and the trials I was forced to endure."

He frowned slightly. "You said you had a happy childhood."

"I did, until I didn't and it was taken from me. I was forced to grow far too fast for a child, which is why I have always been more mature than others," she explained. "In any case, I have a lot to do and very little time to do it, so I best be leaving. I shall see you later, Arthur." She turned her eyes to Kaelyn. "This property is now yours, do with it as you wish and I shall send someone with a treatment for your injuries later in the day."

"Thank you, Your Highness," the young woman said gratefully, curtseying.

"You are very welcome," she said. She then turned her attention to Emerick and Michel, both of who had put their helmets on and looked as though they'd been giving a talking to, which she was sure they had. "Let's be on our way," she said, spinning on her heel and walking past them both, hearing Ginevra running to fall into place behind her.

"I will have other guards assigned to you," Arthur said, stepping into place beside her.

She turned her eyes to him. "You most certainly will not," she replied.

"Hermione..."

"No, Arthur," she interrupted. "It was not their fault we were separated by the crowd, and I happen to like Emerick and Michel."

"Emerick and Michel?" He questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, they are people and they have names," she responded and a chastised look crossed his face briefly before it was gone. "They are not afraid to speak with me, they have given me enough space to feel comfortable but are able to protect me if needs be, and they aren't afraid of Akela either. I think I might make them my personal guards."

"You can't do that," he responded, slightly amused.

"No? But you can."

"Hermione..." He sighed.

"I won't hear of it, Arthur."

He grumbled beneath his breath, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Fine, I will make them your personal guards," he begrudgingly agreed. She smiled, pleased with herself. "Do you always get what you want?" He asked, seeming to be amused by her responding smug grin.

"More often than not, yes," she said and he shook his head, a laugh leaving him.

It wasn't until she neared the lower parts of the city that she realised Arthur was still beside her, looking as though he had no intentions of leaving her side and heading back to the castle.

"Should you not be at the castle?" She asked.

"I'm a Prince, Hermione. I may leave the castle anytime I wish," he replied amused.

"I meant do you not have duties that require your attention?"

"No,"

"And you could be doing anything you wish to but instead you are here with me. Why is that?"

He gave her that charming smile that always had her insides squirming no matter how hard she tried not to be affected by it, but other than that, he didn't answer her question.

As they slowly made their way through the lower parts of the city, Hermione saw the change in his behaviour and mood. His face pulled into a frown, his smile dropped and his eyes seemed to both sadden and widen as he took in the sight of the homeless, hungry and poor. Of the dirty children and crying babies, of those that begged for help and those that had resigned themselves to their fates. Judging by the look on his face, she was certain he'd never visited this part of the city before.

"I knew there were people that needed help, but I wasn't aware that it was to this extent," he said quietly. He sounded heartbroken at the realisation that his people were suffering and he'd had no knowledge of how bad things truly were.

"That is what I am here for, to help them," she said softly.

"I do try, Hermione," he promised her. "I've spoken to my father and the council, but I have little control. Only when I am King will I be able to help."

"I know, I can see you care for your Kingdom and its people. Your reaction alone is enough for me to see that, never mind your words. This is just one area, Gwen informed me there are five others in the lower city. This seems to be the centre of them all, which is why I chose this location in particular," she explained, just as the hut came into view.

"Is that it?" Arthur asked with a frown, his eyes glancing over the small structure in displeasure.

"Yes, it is not as big as my home had been in Ealdor so I will have to make do with what I have until I can arrange for either another larger building to be constructed, or I can find a property that I may purchase that is close by, though I know it will take time."

"I'll have arrangements made. With the royal stamp of approval, it will shorten the time taken to have a building built."

"Thank you, Arthur," she replied with a smile of genuine gratefulness, before she looked over her shoulder, seeing Ginevra fiddling with her hands and shuffling on her feet distractedly.

She knew that Arthur wouldn't allow her to clean the hut herself and she wasn't able to use magic with so many witnesses, which meant poor Ginevra would be given the responsibility.

"Ginevra, would you please fetch some water from the well we passed and make a start on cleaning the inside of the hut."

"Yes, Your Highness," she muttered with a curtsey, her eyes downcast before she placed the basket she'd been carrying down on the ground and then turned and all but ran to do as asked.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "I see she has not changed," he said, now looking amused at her annoyed expression.

"Unfortunately not, though I hadn't expected her to," she replied, before she set her basket on the ground, strode forward, pushed the door open and stepped inside, the smell instantly hitting her nose.

Sparing a glance over her shoulder and seeing she hadn't been followed, she muttered a charm beneath her breath to rid of the smell, that being the only magic she dared to use. Moving over to the pile of dirty blankets, she lifted the skirt of her dress and kicked them across the room and out the door, not wanting to touch them with her bare hands.

"They shall have to be burned," she commented, seeing Arthur's grimace at the sight of the filthy blankets. "Well, a quick clean is in order but with the current heat I imagine the floors should soon dry."

Ginevra made a reappearance carrying two buckets of water and Hermione retrieved some of the cleaning oils she'd bought at the market, pouring them into the bucket and seeing a scrubbing brush, of which, she had no idea where Ginevra had gotten it from. The handmaiden quietly stepped into the hut and made a start on the cleaning whilst Arthur pulled her into conversation.

It was a short while later when she heard Emerick and Michel stand to attention and she turned to follow the direction in which they were facing, seeing the young boy that slowly approached with a cautious look on his face and his hand rising as if to reach for a weapon.

"Emerick, Michel, he is of no threat, let him pass," she instructed.

They shared a glance before their bodies relaxed but their hands remained on the hilt of their swords and their eyes were locked on him.

"Good morning, Charles," she greeted softly, seeing from the corner of her eye Arthur's form stiffen and his hand came up to his sword, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "He is of no threat," Hermione repeated, sending Arthur a less than pleased look. His gaze darted to hers and then back to Charles and she let out a sigh. "Honestly," she muttered with a shake of her head. "Where are your brothers?" She questioned.

"Waiting for me to call them," he replied, his eyes moving between her, Arthur and looking over his shoulder at the guards.

"They will not harm you, they are simply here for my safety," she said. "Arthur is rather protective of me," she explained with a smile.

The young boy frowned, looking suspicious. "Are you important?"

Hermione sighed. "I suppose there is no harm in revealing my identity, it will be spread around the city by the end of the day," she grumbled in annoyance. "I am Hermione, Princess of Gryffindor city in the Kingdom of Hogwarts."

His eyed widened in horror, quickly understanding that what he'd done the day before could result in his death.

"This is Prince Arthur," she gestured to Arthur.

She understood that it would be hard for him to recognise the Prince. If he'd never visited the lower parts of the city no one would know his face and if he didn't wear his crown or cape, they would never know who he was when wearing his dark green shirt and dark breeches.

Charles released a strangled noise in the back of his throat and he took a step back.

"Charles, there is no reason for you to worry," she said softly. "No harm will come to you."

"Yesterday, I..."

"Caused no harm, you were only frightened for your brothers," she interrupted. "I do not blame you for what happened and you won't be punished for what you did, I assure you. Arthur is here for reasons he will not tell me, but I promise it has nothing to do you or what transpired yesterday. Now please, bring your brothers to me, I wish to meet them."

He looked hesitant as his gaze was darting between Arthur and his sword. Hermione sighed and with Arthur stood so close to her, she gently nudged him with her elbow, drawing his attention and giving him a pointed look.

His hand fell from his sword and his posture relaxed. "Hermione is correct, I am not here for you. She wishes to meet your brothers and I confess I find myself wishing to do so, too."

"It is fine, Charles, I give you my word and I have proven that is something of value."

He looked hesitant but he brought his fingers to his mouth and let out an impressively loud whistle and a few short moments later, Hermione's heart stopped at the sight of three young boys slowly approaching, the youngest holding the hand of the tallest one. She hadn't for a moment thought that Charles had been lying but seeing his younger brothers first hand had just made it a reality for her, and it seems she wasn't the only one as she heard Arthur's breath hitch slightly.

The tallest she was going to assume was Harrow, the twelve-year-old. He had dark brown short hair, bright green eyes, tanned skin and wore tattered clothing. The second tallest stood on his left and she assumed it was Farley, the nine-year-old. Like his brother, he had dark brown short hair and tanned skin, but his eyes were a pale blue unlike Harrow's green and Charlie's dark blue. His clothing was tattered and dirty, too. And finally was the smallest and youngest, Kenelm being only five-years-old. He was tanned like his brothers and his clothing was tattered and dirty, but his hair was different, a shaggy light brown and his eyes were bright green, even brighter than Harry’s had been.

Hermione wouldn't have through they were brothers if it weren't for the fact they all had similar noses. Whilst Harrow and Farley approached cautiously, their eyes darting between the guards, their brother and herself and Arthur, Kenelm had an innocent big grin on his face, showing missing teeth and his eyes lighting up at the sight of his eldest brother. Hermione had never seen a more adorable child and if she weren’t careful, she might just fall deeply in love with the little boy, in which, she’d consider kidnapping and taking him home with. She’d never once in her life contemplated kidnapping a child, and yet, here she now was doing exactly that.

He broke free of Harrow's hold and ran forward, heading straight for Charles and ploughing into his side, wrapping his arms around his waist which he could barely reach and he grinned up at his brother. Hermione felt tears welling in her eyes at the adoring way he looked at his brother, like someone would look at their idol, and she had to force them down.

"Is this the lady you told us about?" He asked his older brother.

"Yes," he answered.

"She's very pretty," he whispered loudly and Hermione felt a smile pulling at her mouth. Something about him reminded her of Tobyn.

"Thank you," Hermione said and his eyes widened, whether that was due to her having heard him or because he wasn't used to women dressed like her speaking to him, she wasn't sure. "And I must say that you are quite the handsome little man," she replied and he beamed at her. "You must be Kenelm."

"That's me," he said proudly and she smiled.

"And I'm to assume you are Harrow and Farley," she said, looking to each of them in turn and they eyed her dress cautiously, understanding that she was of wealth.

"We are," Harrow answered.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you both," she smiled and turned her eyes back to Charles. "Have you eaten?"

"No, I haven't been able to find them food this morning. They ate everything you gave me yesterday."

"Then I imagine you are quite hungry," she replied, Kenelm nodding furiously and she smiled. "If you would take a seat over there," she gestured to a small patch of grass a little ways away, "I shall be over in a moment."

Kenelm didn't need to be told twice and he all but ran to the spot, whilst the older two looked to Charles questioningly and he nodded, telling them to do as she'd said. They slowly walked away and over to Kenelm and Charles stayed behind, seeming to know she wished to speak with him.

"Where are your parents?" Arthur asked, his eyes darting between Charles and his brothers.

"Dead," he answered.

Arthur sucked in a breath. "How long have you been caring for your brothers?"

"My parents died a year and a half ago."

Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to hear the story, that would've made Charles around the age of thirteen when he was forced to take on the role of carer, and Kenelm would've only been around three, too. Far too young to lose their parents.

"What happened?"

Charles looked suspicious but answered anyway. "My mother was sick and we couldn't afford the treatment she needed, my father was able to retrieve the ingredients list so he could make the remedy himself and he was in the woods, searching for the ingredients he needed. He was killed by bandits and my mother died a few days after."

 _Oh God_ , Hermione thought, her heart breaking in two and her eyes filling with tears once more.

"You have no family?"

"No family that wanted us. I have an Uncle but he hated my mother and the same is said for us."

Arthur muttered a very surprising word beneath his breath, something she would never expect from him but she didn't blame him for his reaction.

"Thank you, Charles," Hermione said before she walked over to her basket and lifted it from the ground. "Let's get you boys fed," she smiled, making her way over to the small group and she took a seat on the ground, folding her legs beneath her and readjusting the skirt of her dress before placing the basket in the centre of the boys who sat in a circle.

"Is this for us?" Kenelm asked.

"Yes,"

"All of it?" He asked, his eyes wide.

"All of it," she smiled. "You may eat whatever you wish and however much your stomach can handle without making you poorly," she promised, her heart aching when he happily dived into the basket, searching through the apples, bread, cheese and pies and deciding on what he wished to eat first. "Slow down, little one," she said, seeing that he was trying to shove a whole pie in his mouth. "You may choke or upset your stomach if you eat too quickly. I know you are hungry but you must eat slowly."

He didn't look happy with her words but he did remove half of the eaten pie and ate his food at a slower rate. A look from Charles had his brothers digging into the offerings at a slower pace and he himself ate slowly, his eyes barely leaving her face.

"You aren't like other Princesses, are you?" He said knowingly, a smile tugging at her face when she saw Harrow and Farley do a double-take and whilst Kenelm watched her with wide eyes though not even his surprise stopped him from eating, he reminded her of Ron in that regard.

"What makes you say that?" She asked curiously.

"The way you responded to my actions yesterday, you put the needs of others before your own, you could've left that woman who I'm guessing was your servant and ran for safety, you gave me food and haven't had me arrested for what I did to you. And this morning, you've brought food and you're sitting on the dirty ground in your expensive dress."

"No, I'm not like other Princesses," she confirmed. "I'm a trained physician and that hut over there," she gestured with a tip of her head, "Is where I will be running a medical practice from until a larger building can be constructed for me. I'm here to help those that need it, which is why I've been helping you."

"The people can't afford treatments."

"They don't need to; I shall be providing treatment and aid free of charge." His eyes widened. "I have the means to help others and so I do. I have more wealth than I care for and I can think of no better way than to use it to benefit others. I am also in the process of making a deal with bakers, fromagers and farmers, where I will purchase their products and distribute them free of charge to those who are unable to afford food or who are struggling financially."

"Why would you do that?" Harrow asked, a frown of confusion on his face.

"I truly care for others. I have suffered myself and I know what that feels like. I wish to prevent others from the same fate."

"You're a Princess? How do you know what suffering is?" He replied in a tone that was mocking.

She smiled sadly. "My Kingdom was in a two-decades-long war. When I was a baby, my Grandfather, the King, sent myself and my parents away for our protection. No one knew I existed and I was raised without servants and guards. Bad things started to happen when I was eleven, people discovered my existence and they didn't stop trying to hurt me and I was forced to fight for my life. Two years ago, my parents were both killed by our enemies. I was forced to flee, to live in the woods and to never stay in the same place for more than a couple of nights. I know what it's like to be cold and hungry and afraid. I may be a Princess by title and birth, but my experiences mean I can relate to your circumstances more than I can a royal's."

Silence fell upon the small group, the three older boys exchanging glances as their eyes darted between each other and her. That silence was broken by the sound of horses' hooves against the ground and items rattling and she looked over her shoulder, a confused look crossing her face at the sight of two guards approaching, each holding the reins of a horse that pulled a cart each behind them, though it was covered by a large sheet and she was unable to see what they carried.

She looked over to Arthur, seeing that his face pulled into a smile and crossed to greet the guards. Curiosity getting the better of her, she stood and left the young boys to their food whilst she headed for Arthur, his smile widening at the sight of her.

"Arthur?" She questioned, seeing that he didn't look the least bit surprised by their arrival.

"I have a surprise for you," he said, sending a nod to the guards who both moved to the carts and took a hold of the sheets, giving them a tug until they fell to the ground and revealed the contents.

Her eyes widened and her hand came up to her mouth at the sight of the two cabinets, a small table and a larger table on one cart, and the second cart held five cots, two chairs and a pile of sheets, blankets and pillows. Her eyes darted over to him questioningly, at a loss for words.

"At dinner yesterday evening you said you needed furniture to set up your practice. I had a talk with Gaius and he told me what you would require and Gwen gave me directions, which I passed onto the guards once I'd arranged for the items to be collected and ready for transporting," he explained with a grin.

She stared at him, finding it hard to find the words to speak. "You...You did this for me?" She questioned quietly, feeling her eyes welling up with tears and her vision blurring.

"Yes, I may not be able to help the people the way I wish due to the council's interference, but they can't stop me from providing you with the equipment and facilities you need, especially when they were found in storage. By helping you, I'm helping them."

She couldn't stop it no matter how hard she tried. Her tears fell from her eyes and trailed down her cheeks and she found herself, no matter how much didn't want to, falling a little deeper.

As each day passed, she found herself finding another reason to fall deeper for him.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 9

There was nothing she could say or do to truly express her gratitude.

Seeing her tears, his smile fell from his face instantly and he looked concerned, saddened.

"Should I not have done that?" He frowned, looking more nervous than she'd ever seen him.

Hermione took a breath to calm herself and impropriety be damned, she closed the distance between them and took him by surprise when she reached up, looping her arms around his neck and pulling herself against him in a hug. It took him a moment to realise what she'd done but she soon felt his arms move to hold her against him, one wrapping around her shoulders and the other settling against the middle of her back.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Words cannot describe how thoughtful and considerate that was, and how thankful I am for what you've done."

"I made the right decision?" He asked quietly.

"You have done exceptionally, Arthur, truly, thank you," she muttered.

She knew she was later going to beat herself up about her actions but as she stood in Arthur's arms, held against him gently, in a way that had her feeling safe and cared for in as long as she could remember, she couldn't find it in herself to care, not even when she felt the stares of the guards and young boys.

She wasn't quite sure how long they stood holding one another in silence and she was soon pulling back from him, feeling his resistance as he obviously didn't wish to release her. She stepped back from him, their gazes locking instantly, his eyes intense but soft, it was enough to make any girl fall head over heels for him. He reached up, his hands resting against her cheeks and his thumbs wiping away her tears and a laugh left her.

"Right, I need to pull myself together and stop being so emotional," she laughed, stepping back from him, his hands falling from her face and she wiped at her eyes.

"No, you don't," he said. "It's one of the things I like most about you," he confessed. "You're not afraid to show your emotions no matter who may be present. I am used to others hiding their feelings from me; I am used to blank expressions and pretty smiles. You are not afraid to cry in front of me, to show annoyance or anger, whether it is at me or not. You shouldn't change who you are for anyone."

"The same can be said about you, Arthur," she replied. "You are kind and brave and caring, don't let anyone use that against you. I have often been told that showing emotions is a weakness, but it's not. It's a strength, one I've learned to use to my advantage. Those qualities are what makes you who you are, they are how I know you will someday be a King Camelot has never before seen and the people will love you dearly." The way he was looking at her had heat flooding her cheeks and her stomach filling with butterflies, and she cleared her throat. "So, how are we supposed to get those heavy pieces of furniture inside?" She questioned.

He frowned slightly in thought. "I was unsure of how much space you would have," he responded, his eyes darting between the furniture and the small hut, looking to be calculating whether or not it would all fit inside.

"It will be a bit of a squeeze, but they will fit. Once I have a larger premises, I can either transfer this furniture or use others."

"There are dozens more in storage at the castle," he informed her, his eyes darting between the furniture and hut once more. "There are five of us," he gestured to himself and the four guards. "I am sure we will be able to lift the heavier items between us," he said.

"Be careful, I'm here to treat the poor, not the Prince," she teased, seeing his playful scowl before she turned and headed towards the hut, peeking inside to see Ginevra scrubbing the floor.

"How are you fairing, Ginevra?" She asked.

The young girl squeaked in surprise at Hermione startling her and she jumped to her feet, her eyes immediately falling downcast.

"I am finished, Your Highness," she said quietly.

"Excellent," Hermione beamed. "If I were you, I'd come outside, Arthur and the guards are preparing to bring in furniture and they are going to need all the space they can get."

Ginevra picked up the brush and dropped it into one of the buckets before picking them both up and carrying them out of the hut, standing off to the side awkwardly. Hermione's attention moved to Arthur and the guards, seeing that they'd chosen to remove the cots, chairs and small table first as they were the lightest items, before they moved onto the cabinets, which took several of them and some manoeuvring to lift them from the cart and onto the ground.

"Why am I here?"

Hermione startled at the sound of the voice and she turned to see Charles stood beside her. When had he snuck up beside her?

"Excuse me?" She questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"Why am I here? I know it has nothing to do with you wanting to give me food. You wouldn't have wanted to meet my brothers otherwise, or you could've just given me some coins to buy my own food."

Hermione's mouth pulled into a smile. "You're very observant," she praised. "Can you read and write?"

He frowned. "Yes," he answered.

"And your brothers?"

"Harrow can, Farley struggles and I've been trying to teach Kenelm the best I can, but I don't have the resources to do so."

"Do you have somewhere to live? A roof over your head? Somewhere dry and warm?"

He eyed her warily. "We move around, never stay in the same place for longer than a night or two, it's dangerous. We sleep wherever we can. Why are you asking such questions?"

"Would you like a job?"

"What?" He spluttered, his eyes wide in surprise.

"Would you like a job?" She repeated.

"I don't understand," he frowned.

"Well, there are a lot of people that need my help and I am going to need someone I can trust to be by my side as I do. I may have one patient a day, I may have ten, in which, I cannot see to them all by myself and require a second pair of eyes, ears and hands. What I require is an apprentice." He stared in surprise. "Aside from the expected providing of clothing, food and boarding, I'll pay you five gold coins a week."

"Five?" He rasped, seeming to have a coughing fit and Hermione frowned in concern, reaching up to pat at his back.

"Yes, five."

"But that is more than most earn, and I will be just an apprentice."

She'd honestly never seen someone so surprised.

"An apprentice I believe will do exceptionally well. Once I've finished training you, you'll be a fully trained and experienced physician and you may do as you wish afterwards. You can stay and work with me, continuing to help those that need it, or you can leave and find somewhere else to work. Once I'm done with you, you'll be one of the best-educated citizens in Camelot. Once Harrow is older and should he wish it, I will train him, too. As for Farley and Kenelm, I will teach them both to read and write. Trust me, Charles, I am very good at what I do. Before my arrival in Camelot, I spent a year and a half in a poor village, where I taught the people to read and write and I trained two apprentices within two months before my leaving."

"But five coins a week?" He questioned, still looking as though he might faint.

"Yes, if you save up, one day you may be able to purchase your own property where you and your brothers can live. For the time being, you may stay here," she gestured to the hut behind her. "It may be a little cramped but it's the best I can offer at the moment until I find somewhere else for you. Each morning, I have to pass through the market place to get here and I will purchase fresh food or I may bring you hot meals from the kitchens at the castle and it will last you three meals a day. As for clothing, I have already purchased some this morning," she gestured to the second basket Ginevra had been carrying. "There wasn't much to choose from and I suspect they will have to be altered."

"You purchased them _before_? How did you know I'd come?"

"Yes, _before_. Before you'd even left I had already decided on making you, my apprentice."

"Why are you doing all of this for me, especially after what I did to you?" He asked quietly.

Her expression softened. "Believe it or not, you remind me of myself. You are fiercely protective of your brothers and you are willing to do anything to protect them, to ensure their health. I had two friends who were very much my family, my little brothers and I was just as protective over them as you are your brothers. I would move mountains to ensure their safety and I made it known that should anyone harm them, they would surely regret it. Your actions and behaviour are not out of selfishness or malice, or simply because you can. It is solely for the safety, health and well-being of your family. You are young, Charles, far too young to have such a responsibility on your shoulders and I wish to help ease that."

"I'll have to think about it," he said, watching as Arthur and the guards turned their attention to the second cabinet.

"Of course," she tipped her, a smile pulling at her mouth knowingly as he turned and walked back over to his brothers, Hermione chuckling when she saw that Kenelm was the only one that was still eating.

He'd barely been gone two minutes before he stood beside her once more, her eyes moving to his brothers and seeing the older two staring at her in surprise.

"Do I have to call you 'Your Highness'?"

She smiled, keeping her eyes on Arthur and the guards as they turned their attention to the final item, the heaviest, the large table.

"No, in fact, I would prefer it if you didn't. I don't care for such formalities, and I swear, if you ever bow to me, I will give you all of the disgusting patients."

For the first time since she'd met him, a smile pulled at his mouth.

"Disgusting?"

"Yes, maggot-infested wounds, uncontrollable bowel movements, projectile vomiting, pus-filled boils...I could go on forever."

He grimaced. "That sounds lovely," he said sarcastically.

"I am only informing you of what to expect," she replied amused. "Now, my apprentice, perhaps you should give them a hand with that table, they look to be struggling and I'm sure an extra pair of hands would make all the difference. Just be mindful that whilst I do not care for such formalities, that is Prince Arthur of Camelot and he was raised far differently than I was."

He nodded before leaving her side, crossing over to the group of four and it seemed his help was much appreciated as they were able to remove the table from the cart and rather than putting it down on the ground as she'd expected, they carried it straight to the hut. It was a struggle to fit it through the door but they managed to do so eventually and it was placed in the centre of the room. After that, they were able to bring the first cabinet in which she instructed to be placed on the back wall.

"Harrow, would you care to lend a hand?" She asked the second eldest, seeing that he was watching the men curiously.

Without a word, he stood from the ground and slowly approached the men lifting the second cabinet, and one of the guards directed him to the chairs. He picked them both up and carried them across to the hut, placing them against the right wall.

"I want to help, too," Kenelm called around a mouthful of cheese and he stood and ran to Hermione.

"Of course, little one, but you must eat what you have in your mouth first, we don't want you choking, now do we?"

He chewed his food and then swallowed, opening his mouth wide to show he'd eaten it all and she laughed before offering her hand, which he took and together they walked over to the carts, Hermione lifting a pillow and placing it in arms. He beamed and turned, running to the hut. Hermione chuckled and shook her head, collected the blankets and linens in one sweep and she headed inside the hut, moving aside as the cots were brought in and positioned on the left wall, side by side by with a small gap to allow for movement between them. Hermione quickly went about covering the cots with sheets, neatly laying the blankets over the top and then fluffing up the pillows once Kenelm passed them to her.

When she stepped back, the other cabinet had been brought in and the small table was against the right wall with the two chairs tucked beneath. She looked around, feeling quite pleased with the little space.

"I thank you all for your help this day," Hermione spoke. "Right, I believe everything is done here."

"You may return to the castle," Arthur said to the two guards, and they chorused a 'Sire' and 'Your Highness' before bowing, Hermione seeing Charles trying to hide his snigger at her less than pleased look at them doing so.

"Michel, Emerick, thank you for your help. I would excuse you but I know Arthur would have kittens," she said, seeing him sending her a scowl and she smiled at him innocently. "So, do as you wish, have a wander of the area, take a seat outdoors, I don't mind. Just take a moment to rest up."

"Your Highness," they both chorused with a bow and she scowled in annoyance, seeing Charles once again failing to hide a snigger and Arthur smiled. "Okay, Ginevra, would you please fetch the basket with clothing."

She nodded and curtsied before shuffling out of the hut and returning moments later, handing it to her.

"Right, boys, try these on. I'm not expecting them to fit but I need a visual to see how they need to be altered. We shall wait outside for you, when you are done, give me a call," she instructed, leaving the basket on the table and then stepping outside with Arthur and Ginevra to give them some privacy.

"Well, you have all the furniture you need, now you just need to stock your remedies cabinets," Arthur said.

She smiled at him. "I have everything I need with me."

He raised an eyebrow before a confused look crossed his face when she removed her beaded bag from her pocket, something she knew he'd never seen before.

"Do you remember when I explained I had a magic bag that allowed me to hide my valuables?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Well, don't faint," she said, before opening the bag and sticking her hand inside, his eyes widening and his mouth parting when her arm disappeared right down to her shoulder. "I did say that not all magic is evil," she said softly. "The majority is wonderful and fun and light." She pulled her hand back with a jar gripped between her fingers. "I have all of my remedies and ingredients in this bag, I just have to place them in the cabinets."

"I honestly don't know what to say," he said dumbfounded and she laughed, before a call was heard and Hermione stepped into the hut to see the boys all dressed in their boots, tunics and breeches.

Charles' looked to fit him quite well, Harrow's was too small, Farley's slightly too big and Kenelm's buried him with him being small for his age, but that didn't seem to bother him as he was grinning widely.

"I love them," he said, tugging on the tunic. "Blue's my favourite colour."

"I like red," she replied and he grinned.

"How do they fit?"

"The tunic and breeches are a little tight," Harrow said. "But the boots fit."

"Too big, but the boots are too small, they hurt my feet," Farley said.

"I love them, I don't want them changing," Kenelm said and Hermione chuckled.

"Sweetie, you need clothing that will fit you. Now, I can keep them a little bigger so you have room to grow into them and you'll be comfortable, but I can't leave them as they are, you'll trip and injure yourself. How are your boots?"

He frowned, not pleased with her words and her mouth pulled into a smile at his little pout. "They hurt my feet."

"Okay, we'll get the next size up. Charles?"

"Everything fits," he said, moving his arms and twisting his body, testing how much room he had when moving before nodding. "They're perfect."

"Wonderful, now if you get changed, I shall have them back to you by the end of the day. If you have any belongings you have hidden away, you should collect them now."

Hermione left the hut with Arthur until the boys had changed and once they left, she re-entered, collected the clothing and set them in the basket to be altered later, before turning her attention to pulling the ingredients and pre-made remedies from her beaded bag and putting them in the cabinets, more than aware of Arthur's gaze being on her as she did so.

"Ginevra, I'm excusing you for the rest of the day. Thank you for your help this morning, but before you leave, would you please take this to Kaelyn at Thorley Harte's previous residence? Instruct her to place it on and around the cut on her cheek, as well as the scold on her hand, and to do so twice a day for three days."

She nodded and curtsied before leaving out the door, leaving only her and Arthur inside the hut.

"I can't believe it's ready," she said, her eyes darting about in wonder. "And I never would've gotten it done so quickly if it weren't for you."

"You're welcome," he gave her that charming smile that had her stomach fluttering. "You're making that boy your apprentice, aren't you?"

She raised an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"

"We may not have known each other very long, but I'm starting to understand you, the way you behave, the way you think. You wish to help him and his brothers, making him your apprentice would provide him not only with clothing, food and shelter, but a chance to learn a new craft, something that will change his life. Physicians are always in high demand no matter wealth or the Kingdom."

"Yes, I've made him my apprentice and I will also be teaching Kenelm and Farley to read and write. When Harrow is old enough, possibly Charles' age, and should he wish it, I will make him my apprentice, too."

Something inside the Prince sparked to life, she saw it his eyes, in the way he smiled.

"You believe you will be in Camelot for such a time?"

"I don't wish to overstay my welcome, but I don't plan on leaving Camelot until I know that I've helped as many people as I can. If that takes years, then so be it."

"Hermione, you will never outstay your welcome. Camelot is and will always be happy to have you. I wish for you to flourish and spread your kindness and compassion. I wish for Camelot to be a home for you."

"You know, Arthur, I wish for that, too. I truly do," she said quietly.

On that day, she realised that Arthur had wormed his way into her heart and she couldn't bear the thought of not being able to see his charming smile or hear his kind words or teasing comments. She knew, that no matter what the future held, she would make sure that Arthur would always know she was on his side.

"You will be spending all of your time here, won't you?"

"I imagine so," she nodded. "The quicker word spreads that I'm offering free health care and treatments, I believe I shall be kept rather busy, it being one of the reasons I've taken Charles on as my apprentice. I'm going to need an extra pair of hands."

"Well, I think I might join you."

"Meaning?" She asked confused.

"The boy will need a break from all of the learning he will be doing, and there's no harm in him learning to defend himself. It will be easy for me to bring swords, targets, arrows and practice dummies from the castle so I may teach him to do so, especially the younger boys who will have nothing to do whilst their brother is working. I started training as soon as I could hold a sword, so the youngest should be fine."

She stared at him. "You will give up your time to teach four orphan boys to fight?"

"The way I see it, I am helping these boys to defend themselves, I'm giving them something to occupy their time, it will teach them discipline and honour, it will keep them off the streets, and, I get to be right outside your door. It's a win-win," he smiled, the sun shining down on his face and his bright blue eyes reflecting like sapphires.

And there she goes again, falling a little deeper for him.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 6

"Akela, I can't sneak you out with me, you'll have to stay here," Hermione said, looking down at her wolf with her hands on her hips. He let out a bark of disagreement. "No, whilst the people of the castle know that you may wander or hunt alone, they may still be suspicious as it isn't often you are seen not by my side. I must leave the castle and I can't sneak you out beneath the cloak. I shan't be gone long and I promise to return to the castle within the next two hours."

It was obvious he disagreed with her plans for the night but she wasn't backing down. She had to leave the castle without anyone seeing her and without being escorted by her newly appointed personal guards – something that had completely surprised Emerick and Michel, as not only did they now only take orders from her -unless overridden by the King and Arthur- but they'd just been promoted in their position at the castle.

Akela released a rumbling growl of annoyance before laying down in front of the fire and turning his head, refusing to look at her. She barely stopped herself from laughing at him. Shaking her head, Hermione reached for her beaded bag and slipped it into her hidden pocket of the pale blue dress she wore, having changed clothing before sitting with the King, Lady Morgana and Arthur for dinner.

She'd had a busy day and was exhausted. That morning she'd had two attempts on her life, freed a servant from an abusive master and made deals with nearly half of the market place. The early afternoon she'd taken on the role of provider and caregiver to four young boys, gained herself an apprentice and set up her practice. The late afternoon through to early evening she'd returned to the castle and spent hours with Prince Arthur and King Uther, discussing the happenings of the morning and Thorley Harte, of which the King had _not_ been forgiving and ordered Thorley's execution which was to be officially announced the following morning and carried out in the evening.

Now, she'd not long since returned from dinner, Arthur having escorted her to her room despite her new personal guard, and she was preparing to head out into the lower city, wishing to return the newly altered clothing to the boys and take them some food. Earlier in the evening, she'd managed to find her way to the kitchens and surprisingly, it had taken her a while to convince the cooks to allow her to use their kitchen to cook up a quick stew. She'd been aware of their suspicious but curious gazes and had ignored them diligently, before leaving the kitchens with a pot of stew in hand. Once she'd returned to her rooms, she'd cast a Stasis Charm over it so it would stay warm until she had time to take it to the four orphans.

So, having everything she required, she slipped on her newly made cloak for warmth and then covered herself with the Invisibility Cloak before leaving out of her room and quietly navigating the castle, leaving the grounds and making her way through the city as quickly as possible.

Given how late it was, she wasn't surprised to see the streets were empty except for the occasional person wandering. As she approached the hut, she had every intention of casting wards around it once she knew it was safe to do so. Despite it being quite warm during the day, it was most certainly the opposite during the night and even beneath the two cloaks she wore, she felt herself shiver as the wind picked up. It would be freezing inside the hut despite the blankets and walls to keep the children dry and out of the path of the wind, and Hermione planned to cast a warding around the hut that would be activated by the change in temperature. If it was a warm night, it would remain ineffective but if the temperature dropped too low, a heat barrier would encase the hut, keeping the young boys inside warm and comfortable. But to ensure their safety, she also planned to use anti-theft and break-in wards, that would only be effective if the hut was empty or if it were between the hours of late evening and early morning.

As she approached, she did a quick sweep of her surroundings before pulling off the Invisibility Cloak and then she removed her beaded bag from her pocket, stuffed it inside and continued on her way to the hut. As she drew near, a slight frown pulled at her face as she saw shadows being cast on the wall through the window. The only source of light capable of doing such a thing was fire, but not only was there not enough room in the hut to build a fire, but the smoke would also be incredibly bad for their health. The shadows were too large to be caused by a simple candlelight and as she realised that, panic filled her and she rushed forward, the door slamming open and against the stone wall as she ploughed into the room.

Upon her entrance, the four boys that were crowded onto two cots let out startled sounds, visibly jumped and turned to look at her with horrified, terrified expressions, and Hermione's eyes widened at the sight of the flickering, dancing flames hovering above Harrow's palm.

"Godric," she breathed out in a whisper, her eyes darting between the flames and Harrow's panicked expression.

He had magic!

Hermione most certainly hadn't been expecting that. God, her head hurt.

"You can do magic," she spoke softly.

Charles suddenly jumped to his feet, his hand reaching as though to pull the dagger she knew he had hidden on his person, a fiercely protective look crossing his face and he looked about ready to either charge at her or throw a dagger straight at her heart. She was not in the mood for a _third_ attempt on her life that day.

"I mean you know harm," she said, before she looked over her shoulder, her eyes landing on the large examination table and with a muttered, _Wingardium Leviosa_ , the large table slowly levitated off the ground, hovering barely half a foot in the air.

She turned her eyes back to the boys, all of them looking equally as surprised as she had upon her entrance. Charles' hand fell back down his side, Harrow looked slightly awed, Farley surprised and Kenelm was sleeping as he clutched the blanket against him; if he hadn't woken yet she didn't think he would until the morning. She raised her hand and made a show of lowering it back to her side, the three boys seeing the way the table lowered to the ground at the same speed, a definite sign she'd been the one to control the movement.

"You have magic, too," Harrow spoke, the flames disappearing from his palm in his surprise and the room was plunged into darkness, until Hermione muttered a spell to light the torches in the room, bathing them in the soft glow of the firelight.

"I do, yes," she said, slowly approaching and summoning a chair from the other side of the room, hearing their noises of surprise as she took a seat in front of them. "That is why your secret is safe with me. Am I to assume to you were born with your magic?"

He was far too young to be practising the magic of the Old Religion, what she'd witnessed was the magic she practised, the magic she'd been taught. It was likely instinctual; it was cold in the hut and to keep his brothers and himself warm, his magic had acted to protect them.

"I think so," he replied, his eyes darting between his brothers and her.

"I was, too," she smiled softly. "When did you discover your magic?"

"After my parents died," he answered.

Why was the world so cruel to the innocent?

That may have been the trigger, Hermione thought. More often than not, children showed signs of magic after the age of four and as they aged, the magical acts tapered off until they received their wands at the age of eleven, and then it stopped, though it had been known for accidental magic to occur after. However, some children required something to trigger their magic, something to spark it to life.

With Neville, it had been his Uncle dropping him out of the window and almost drowning after being thrown off Blackpool Pier. With Ron, it had been Fred and George locking him in a cupboard with spiders. With Seamus, it had been a small kitchen fire, which she found ironic given how much of a pyromaniac he'd been.

Harrow's trigger had been the death of his parents.

"Did your parents have magic, too?"

"No," he shook his head. "Why?"

"Magic can be inherited, if both your parents had magic, all four of you would've likely inherited it. If only one of your parents had it, the chances of you all having it are half."

"Why do I have magic, but the others don't?" He frowned, glancing to his brothers and then back to her.

"I believe that you either had a magic user in your ancestry or someone who had magical parents but did not possess magic themselves. The magic would be in your bloodline but not strong enough to present itself yet, until, _you_ were born. You are what is known as a Muggleborn."

He frowned. "Did your parents have magic?"

 _What a question to ask,_ Hermione thought and she bit her lip indecisively. Should she tell the truth or lie? She had to make sure she covered all of her bases should anything ever happen or come back to bit her in the arse.

"My father did, my mother did not. I inherited my magic from him, who inherited it from his father."

"The King," Charles said, eyeing her curiously.

"Yes, the Kingdom of Hogwarts is not like Camelot. Magic is celebrated and welcomed. Magic is considered to be a gift. We have a school in which magic is taught to young children. They have mentors in all areas of magic and they are taught to use their magic for good and never evil. I know as I attended Hogwarts when I was a child." Their eyes widened at the news and she smiled softly.

"Is that how you..." Harrow gestured to the table.

"Yes, I learned to do that at school. I'm going to assume you have no reading material or any knowledge of casting magic, therefore anything that you are able to do is instinctual. It is your magic acting to protect you and your brothers but if you are not taught to control your magic, it can be dangerous."

Hermione smoothed out her cloak before folding her hands in her lap delicately, as she bit her lip thoughtfully. Harrow could benefit massively if he were to attend Hogwarts and with his age, she was sure he'd be accepted. She didn't think Slytherin was yet causing a problem so he would be safe. But that meant he'd had to leave his brothers and she wasn't certain Charles would allow it or that Harrow would even wish to go.

She had no way of contacting Hogwarts and only had a general idea of where it was hidden in the 20th century, not the late 5th century. From what she'd estimated, it was a three month's journey, maybe a little longer and she couldn't leave Camelot for half a year nor could she expect a young child to travel alone either. For the same reason, she couldn't write a letter as a rider wouldn't be able to find Hogwarts due to the magical barriers, and she couldn't use an owl either.

Despite owls being sensitive to magic and drawn to magical folk, she honestly hadn't seen many since her arrival, and before they could send letters they had to be trained to do so. Hermione had no idea how to do such a thing and she wasn't certain where she would be able to purchase one. She wouldn't be surprised if a large population of owls surrounded Hogwarts as it was filled with magical folk.

She couldn't risk using a Patronus either. It was unknown when the Patronus Charm had been invented or who had been the one to cast it successfully first, it was just estimated to having been done in ancient times. If it hadn't yet been invented and Hermione cast such magic and sent it off, it could change the timeline and land her in a bit of bother. Besides, Hermione wasn't even certain she _could_ still cast a Patronus. She'd tried during the first couple of weeks of her arriving in the past and she'd been unsuccessful. She hadn't been sure if that was because she was so emotionally exhausted or that all of her good memories and belief had been tainted, and she'd been too afraid to attempt the charm ever since.

With no way of attempting communication and Harrow needing at least _some_ training, there was only one option available to her.

"Due to the circumstances, we must ensure your magic is kept hidden," she said. "And we cannot allow your magic to act out. If you refrain from using magic for too long a time, it results in a magic build up and that is something we wish to avoid, as I have learned firsthand. You need training and as such, I shall help you. I am already quite busy with my other duties but I will ensure to put some time aside to train you in the ways of magic the best I can."

"You will?" Harrow all but whispered.

"You have my word. I will help you and do my best to keep you safe. In return, I need you to stay out of trouble, to not draw attention to yourself and to work hard. Never question my methods. As Charles will soon learn, I have my own way of doing things and though they might seem odd or unconventional, they work. Can you promise me that you will do as I ask?"

Harrow shared a look with Charles who nodded slowly.

"Yes," he said.

"Excellent, now, I can't stay much longer, I had to sneak out of the castle without the guards seeing me," she said and Charles' mouth twitched at the annoyance in her tone. "I came to give you these," she said, pulling her beaded bag from her pocket and summoning the altered clothing, crockery and cutlery and a pot of stew, the items settling on the examination table and at the sight of her magic, they all stared. "Your clothing has been altered, magically of course, and should now fit perfectly. I made the stew myself; it is still warm as I used magic to keep it so. I know it is cold this evening and I will be placing a series of magical barriers around the hut that will ensure you are kept warm and they will prevent anyone who wishes to steal or harm you from entering. And now that I've checked on you and I'm happy you're safe, I shall take my leave," she said, standing from the chair and smoothing out her cloak.

"I will bring food with me tomorrow morning but I may be a little later than I'd intended. The King requests my presence for an announcement. Once I am done and you have had your breakfast, we will make a start on helping those that need it. So, until tomorrow, I hope you get plenty of rest as you're going to need it. Goodnight, boys," she spoke, placing her beaded bag into her pocket, returning the chair to the table and then stepping out of the hut.

After doing a quick scan of her surroundings, she spent almost half an hour casting the wards around the hut before covering herself with the Invisibility Cloak and sneaking back into the castle.

It was as if she'd never left.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 12

"Your Highness..."

"I assure you both, I am _not_ leaving the grounds. I only wish to have a private discussion with my friend, and once we are done, I shall be retiring for the night. I will not be alone as I have Akela by my side. I don't require your guard for the rest of the evening and you are excused for the night. It has been a long day and I'm certain you are both tired."

Michel and Emerick glanced to one another.

"That is what I thought. Off you go and I shall see you bright and early tomorrow morning."

"You will not leave the castle grounds?" Michel asked with a slightly narrowed gaze.

"I will not leave the castle grounds," she promised. "Now, goodnight."

"Your Highness," they both bowed before turning on their heels and leaving her at her door.

Once they'd rounded the corner and were no longer in sight, she headed in the opposite direction and made her way through the castle and towards the physician's chambers with Akela by her side. Upon reaching her destination, she wrapped her knuckles against the door and then stepped inside, not being surprised that Gaius wasn't present as she'd heard the King say that he would be having a discussion with him after dinner.

"Hermione?" Merlin grinned as he stepped out of his rooms and made his way over to her. "What are you doing here?"

She smiled at him. "Well, I've finally settled in and found my footing, so I thought we could make a start on your training." His grin widened and he all but shook with the excitement he was radiating. "Akela hasn't had a good hunt since arriving in Camelot, so I thought we could kill two birds with one stone and take a walk through the wooded area on the grounds. Akela has the opportunity to hunt, we will have a quiet space where no one will be able to stumble upon us and I'll be keeping my promise of not leaving the grounds, therefore not needing a guard or escort, therefore Arthur will have no reason to be mad at me."

"You've thought this through," he replied amused.

"Of course, I have," she smiled. "We wouldn't want the dear Prince to have a meltdown, now would we?" She said and he chuckled at her, shaking his head. "Are you ready?"

Rather than answering, he all but darted around her and out of the door, leaving behind her laughter. She and Akela were quick on his heels and once they fell into step, conversation flowed easily and they greeted any who they passed, whether it be servants, knights or guards. Soon enough they stepped out of the castle and onto the grounds that were bathed in the late evening sun, Hermione knowing it would soon be getting dark and it would give them extra cover.

She allowed Akela to lead the way and he took them across the training grounds and to the woods at the back of it, she and Merlin stepping into the cover of the trees, Akela immediately leaving them behind as he spotted sight of a rabbit and they continued walking until they were a little further into the trees and they found a small clearing.

"This will do," she said, lifting her dress and lowering herself to the ground, folding her legs beneath her and smoothing out her dress.

"I can't imagine the seamstress would be pleased if she were to see you now," Merlin commented amused as he lowered himself onto the ground opposite her, crossing his legs and clasping his hands together.

"Perhaps not, but _I_ paid for her services and the materials used. Besides, this is one of my physician duties dresses and it is easy enough for me to spell it free of dirt."

At the mention of magic, Merlin's eyes lit up at the reminder of what they were to be doing that evening.

"Before we begin, I must make it clear that I am unsure if my methods will be successful for you. As I've said before, we practice vastly different forms of magic. I doubt I will be able to aid you in any casting of magic that originates from the Old Religion, but I will be able to teach you the art form that is _my_ magic, but in doing so, it may inadvertently be what you need to control your magic."

"Brilliant, what spell are we doing first?" He grinned.

"We're not."

His little pout was adorable and reminded her very much of when Hermione had cut Harry off from his treacle tart binge during the Christmas feast at Hogwarts, having eaten so much of the dessert dish she'd been worried they'd be none left for the rest of the school populace.

"First you need to understand your magic. You need to learn how to pull it forward when you need it the most, how to control it, how to use it. For that, we must first find it."

"Find it?" He questioned with a confused frown.

"Yes, find it. All those that are born with magic have what is called a magical core. It is what keeps us alive and allows us to function. Magic is powerful and wonderful, but it is also dangerous and weakening. There is a risk that if one should use too much of their core magic, that they will fall into a deep sleep which they may never awake from. But should one never use their magic or only use little magic, there is a risk of a build up within the body, in which, can result in a volatile explosion of magic which can injure anyone in the vicinity. It's important that all magic users learn to find the correct balance between the two. You must know your limitations."

"That is understandable," he nodded thoughtfully. "Before I am able to do that, I must find my magical core?"

"Yes. It shouldn't be too difficult. You are exceptionally powerful, after all, and I'm certain that you are a fast learner. Once you have found your magic, we will start on your spell casting which will aid in testing your limits. So, let's begin."

At her words, his posture straightened and he sat tall whilst she shifted in her position, crossing her legs and readjusting her dress, ignoring his scandalised, amused expression at her sitting in such an unladylike manner.

"We will begin with meditation."

"Meditation?" He questioned slowly, testing out the word with a frown.

"Yes, it is simple. All you must do is calm your body and relax your mind. You must conjure within you, feelings of happiness and peace. You must find a place you feel most happy and most safe, and you must forget any negative thoughts and feelings, any worries or fears. Make yourself comfortable, close your eyes and slow your breathing, as such..."

Hermione gently laid her hands palm down on her knees, closed her eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling through the nose and exhaling through the mouth. She allowed one eye to flutter open, seeing that Merlin was watching her strangely and upon being caught staring at her, his cheeks tinted pink, he cleared his throat and then closed his eyes, doing his best to mimic her breathing. Hermione's mouth twitched in amusement as she allowed her eye to close and she focused her attention on finding the peace within herself.

"If it may be easier, you may conjure happy memories and walk amongst them. Once you are at peace and you are focused, you will be able to feel your magic. Some say it feels like a gentle rainfall, others like a violent sea. For some, it may feel like a gentle gust of wind but others a tornado. Some may feel a dancing flame but may others may feel a raging fire. It is all dependent on the strength of your magic and your personality. To me, my magic feels like warmth and comfort, like I'm sat outside on a hot summer's day whilst I read my books. When I am emotional, upset or angry, it feels like a raging volcano that is about to erupt. To me, your magic felt like electricity, a powerful bolt of lightning."

They fell into silence, the occasional sounds of birds or a gust of wind surrounding them but otherwise they were quiet and they remained so for quite a while, in fact, she wasn't quite sure how much time had passed but even with her eyes closed she knew the sun was close to setting and it would soon be dark.

"I..." Merlin hesitated and Hermione allowed her eyes to flutter open, seeing the relaxed posture of his body and the peaceful expression on his face. "I think I can feel it."

"What does it feel like?" She asked softly, not wishing to disturb him by speaking loudly.

"It feels like everything you described. A gentle rainfall, a violent sea storm, a dancing flame, a raging fire, a gentle gust of wind, a tornado, the hardness of the ground, the shaking of an earthquake."

"That is understandable," she replied. "The Old Religion is said to be the magic of the earth. You are incredibly powerful, Merlin, and you are a practitioner and believer of such magics. For your magic to feel so many ways is understandable."

"It tickles and tingles, it's warm and comforting as it flows through my body, courses through my veins, from my head to my toes."

"That's brilliant, you're doing wonderful, Merlin," she praised. "Now, follow those feelings and it should lead you to your magical core."

They fell silent once more and Hermione kept her eyes on him, watching as his facial expression changed from confused to focused to annoyed to relaxed. He suddenly took a sharp breath and she saw his body jolt in surprise.

"Have you found it?"

"I...I think so," he frowned slightly but a smile pulled at his mouth. "Yes."

"What does it look like? Mine is a beautifully crafted and intricately designed jewellery box."

"It's a trunk," he replied, his voice distracted, confused. "It looks old, _really_ old, and has an iron lock with iron clamps and nails. There's something inside."

"Open it," she encouraged.

His breath hitched and she saw his hands clench around his knees, his fingers gripping at the fabric of his breeches.

"It's beautiful," he whispered. "It feels like a warm fire, soft grass, a cool stream, a gentle breeze... It's blinding like the sun but comforting and... _Mine_."

"Open your eyes, Merlin."

His eyes fluttered open and they shined a bright gold, brighter than they had the day she'd witnessed him using magic at the Battle of Ealdor. He'd done it, he'd found his magical core and in doing so, he'd just unlocked his full potential which was both dangerous and advantageous.

"Well done, Merlin. I knew you would be a quick study but I have to admit, even I am surprised that you were able to that so quickly. Now that you've found your magical core, you will find that your spellcasting will have more powerful results. You are more powerful than you were before but without the proper training that can be dangerous, so you must practice and learn control and balance as much as you can, as quickly as you can."

"If I don't?" He asked, his eyes showing no signs of returning to the dark blue orbs.

"You witnessed what happened with your loss of control at the battle. Anything that may occur now will be magnified. And I need you to be aware that emotions can affect magic, too. If you are angry or upset, your magic may act out without your control or permission to do so, which is why you must learn control and restraint. Seeing as you've found your magical core so quickly, I believe we should have a little fun for the time being."

With a flick of her wrist, a dozen orbs of softly glowing lights surrounded them as they gently floated above their heads, lighting the darkened woods now that the sun had vanished and night had taken over. His golden eyes widened in wonder and a laugh left him, a smile pulling at Hermione's face as he looked very much like a first-year experiencing magic for the first time, despite knowing that Merlin had already cast great feats of magic before he'd met her.

"You did that without speaking," he commented, his golden eyes falling back to her face.

"You know better than anyone, some magics can be done without the need for words but they don't tend to be as powerful as they would be if the words were to be spoken. There are advantages to casting magic wordlessly, namely, any magical opponent you may have will be unaware of what spell you are to be using against them. So, first I'll teach you this, it's something I remember the younger children at school loved for me to do for them and it's quite simple. If we wish for you to learn to control your magic and learn your limitations, we must start small."

With a simple snap of her fingers, she flipped her hand until it was facing up and as she did so, her signature blue-bell flames sat in the palm of her hand. He eyed her curiously as it was obvious the flames weren't harming her as any regular fire would.

"These are my blue-bell flames. They are capable of providing light and warmth, they don't cause harm when in contact with human skin, they are waterproof and they are portable if placed inside a glass jar. They will only extinguish when I no longer require them and I reverse the spell," she explained, snapping her fingers and the flames vanished. "It doesn't require much magical power unlike other forms of magic and is fairly simple. Would you like to try?"

He gave her a look that all but said she was stupid for even asking such a question and she chuckled at him.

"The incantation is _Caeruleum Flammae_. You don't have to snap your fingers the way I did, but I find it easier to cast the spell if I do so, almost as if the motion is sparking the fire to life rather than the words."

" _Caeruleum Flammae_ ," he repeated slowly, snapping his fingers the way she had and he frowned in disappointment when nothing happened.

"It's expected for you to not successfully cast it on the first attempt," Hermione assured him. "You've found your magical core, tap into it, use it and say the incantation."

It took him a few more tries until a laugh of relief fell from his mouth and he smiled widely at the dancing blue flames that sat in the palm of his hand.

"Wonderfully done," she praised with a smile. "Now, extinguish them."

He frowned in concentration and after several attempts, he snapped his fingers and the flames were vanquished, a proud smile on his face.

"Excellent, now you just have to practice and before you know it..." She snapped her fingers and flipped her hand until it was face up, the blue-bell flames dancing in her palms. "And you can conjure them at will and without the need for words," she smiled, the flames vanishing as she extinguished them. "Well, you've tapped into your magical core and learned your first spell, I'm quite pleased with how our first meeting has turned out. I think it's best if we return to the castle before someone notices our disappearance and they start to worry."

"Not yet. Just one more spell, please?" He begged, his golden eyes turning puppy-like, much in the same way Harry's used to when he wanted to convince her to do something for him she didn't disagree with.

"Fine," she sighed in defeat and he grinned widely. "This is one of my personal favourites," she spoke, before raising her hand above her head, making sure the tip of her wand was aimed high beneath her sleeve and she muttered, " _Avis_ ," under her breath.

A laugh of wonder and disbelief fell from Merlin's mouth as a flock of bright yellow canaries circled over their heads and swooped down and dived between them.

"Not only is this spell capable of conjuring something so beautiful and innocent, if it is coupled with a second incantation, I will also be able to control the behaviour of the birds and they will attack anyone on my command. It is quite effective," she explained, a sad smile pulling at her mouth as she remembered the altercation with Ron.

Sensing the change in her mood, Merlin looked to her with concerned golden eyes and she snapped out of it, clearing her throat.

"The incantation is _Avis_ and this requires a specific hand movement," she informed him, showing the stretched out 'm' shape, something similar to the way a child may draw a flock of birds in the sky.

This spell was a little more difficult and took a little longer for Merlin to master and Hermione sat quietly as she did so, partially paying attention to what Merlin was doing and giving him pointers and encouragement and partially reminiscing on similar occasions where she'd helped Harry, Ron and her other friends with learning specific spells or charms.

By the time Merlin successfully mastered the spell, several flocks of differently coloured birds –something Hermione was incredibly impressed with as she could only conjure yellow canaries, which just showed how powerful he was and how much of a natural he was at magic- flittered about their heads, Merlin watching them entranced with his golden eyes and Akela had not long since made an appearance, lying down beside her with his head in her lap, looking as though he'd overindulged and was very much regretting it.

"I think this is by far my favourite yet," Merlin commented.

"It's one of my favourites, too, but I assure you, there are incredible forms of magic in the world. Some of which I could never dream of casting or mastering."

"I feel the same," he agreed, tearing his golden eyes away from the many birds above them and they fell down to the large wolf dozing beside her as she unconsciously ran her hand through the soft fur on his head.

"I admit, when I first saw him I had my concerns," he started, "But now, I don't think he would cause harm to any who do not deserve it."

"He wouldn't," Hermione confirmed. "The people of Camelot are starting to understand that, too, and they no longer shriek or hide when they see him accompanying me through the streets. It is clear that are still afraid of him, but they no longer react in the way they once did, rather they give us more space than required."

"I have not met a wolf, but I never imagined such a wild creature to behave in the manner he does. You may have domesticated him but even still, I had expected some tendencies and behaviours from him. He is not like a regular wolf, is he?"

Hermione tore her eyes away from her slumbering pet and moved them to Merlin, seeing the way he was watching her wolf curiously, a slight frown on his brow as if he was confused, as if he were trying to solve a problem or riddle.

"I don't believe so, no," she shook her head.

There were very few her wolf was comfortable around. When she walked the castle grounds or the city, whilst he appeared to be calm and relaxed, Hermione knew otherwise. He was _always_ on his guard and ready for an attack.

He hated Ginevra but that was understandable. She all but shrieked and cried whenever he was nearby and she always woke him when she did so. As such, her wolf had developed a dislike for the handmaiden. He was starting to become a little more comfortable with Michel and Emerick, her personal guards who were with her the moment she left her chambers in the morning until she returned to her chambers after dinner in the evening. He understood they were there to protect her and though she knew he was offended at the notion of them not thinking him worthy of protecting her, he was growing used to their presence.

Then there was Arthur. Akela barely batted an eyelash when he was nearby. He never gave him a second glance and she wasn't sure if that was because he knew Arthur wasn't a threat to her, if it were because he was deliberately ignoring the Prince's presence, or if it was because he genuinely trusted and liked him. Not that it mattered.

Finally, there was Merlin. Akela didn't so much as behave differently around the sorcerer, no more than he did Arthur, but Hermione had often caught her wolf watching him silently. She wasn't sure if it was because he knew he had magic, too, and was drawn to him the way he'd been to her, or if it were for another reason, but she had her suspicions. At the very least, Akela had never been openly hostile to Merlin, not even when she'd met Arthur, him and the Knights on the road to Camelot and they'd been introduced for the first time. His threatening behaviour had been directed towards the Prince and Knights, _not_ Merlin.

"He is very protective of you," he commented. "And..." He trailed off with a frown.

"Yes?" She encouraged.

He let out a sigh. "You will think me silly, but I swear, there is something about him that just seems _familiar_."

"Yes, I feel that, too," she admitted, her eyes darting down to the slumbering wolf and then back to him. "Do you know what reincarnation is, Merlin?"

"Reincarnation?" He questioned with a frown. "No? Is it a magical term?"

"Possibly, I can't be certain," she shrugged. "In some religions and cultures, reincarnation is the belief that a non-physical essence, a soul, of a living being is reborn into a different physical form after death."

He reached up to scratch his head thoughtfully. "If I were to die, my soul would return in the form of a dog?"

She smiled. "Maybe, but it could be another human or animal, maybe a bird or a reptile. I suppose the belief is that no one truly dies and that your loved ones never truly leave you."

"I can understand that," he nodded. "But why speak to me about it?"

"I've always held a bit of a belief that reincarnation was possible, but recently I have come to the conclusion that I am a true believer in the concept, and for reasons that you have already mentioned. Akela is familiar to me."

"I'm confused," he said, his face pulling into a bemused expression as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Who does Akela remind you of? Why does he seem familiar to you?" She questioned softly.

He kept his gaze locked with hers for a moment before his eyes fell down to her slumbering wolf, his mouth twitching at the way he released a wolf-like snort and he shifted in his sleep to get more comfortable.

"I don't know why but from the moment I laid eyes on him, he reminded me of..."

"Of?" She prompted softly.

"William," he said quietly.

"William," she agreed with a soft sigh.

"I don't know what it is, but I look at the wolf and I can't help think of him."

"There are similarities between them. Rabbit is Akela's favourite meat and he is quite fond of cheese and apple pie. He is protective of me. He enjoys his sleep and hates being woken. He is able to give almost human expressions. I have witnessed him winking, rolling his eyes and narrowing them suspiciously, something a regular animal would never do. He hates fish and is more affectionate than any wild animal should be."

"Just like William," he muttered, his eyes glued to the slumbering wild animal.

"I had thought Akela had been separated from his pack after being injured but once I healed him, he came back and he kept coming back. He followed me from a quiet village to a busy, loud city, something a regular wolf would avoid. He refuses to leave me. He doesn't listen to a word I say regarding his safety, and I found him all but a few days after William's death. Akela is what helped me to heal and grieve, to deal with the loss of William but I have had my suspicions about his arrival and purpose in my life for a while."

Merlin took a deep breath and his eyes closed as he seemed to collect himself and when his eyes opened, the golden shine was gone and replaced by his usual dark blue colouring.

"William," he spoke.

Akela startled awake at the sound and he rolled over onto his other side, his eyes immediately landing on Merlin and he watched him. Whether he woke due to the sound or the name, Hermione couldn't be sure, but she remained silent as the wolf climbed to his feet, slowly approached Merlin and then sat down in front of him.

"Are you William?" Merlin asked, his voice sounding strained but hopeful. "Is there a small part of you in there that remembers?"

Akela simply cocked his head to the side, looking like a confused puppy.

"Gods, I'm talking to a wolf as if it can understand me," Merlin muttered to himself, giving his head a shake and releasing a sigh.

Akela did something she'd never seen him do before. He leaned forward until he was eye level and his bright blue eyes locked with dark blue, a staring matching breaking out between them before he raised his right leg and seemed to gently hit Merlin in the arm, almost as if he were trying to punch him in a way she'd seen the twins do to each other.

Merlin's eyes suddenly widened and a noise of surprise fell from him.

"Gods," he whispered. "It _is_ you."

Akela let out a startled noise when Merlin leaned closer and wrapped his arms around him, his head burying in his soft fur as his shoulders shook. Tears fell from Hermione's eyes and ran down her face silently and she reached up to wipe them away, averting her gaze to give the young sorcerer a moment to himself.

It wasn't that much later when she heard him take a deep breath and he seemed to compose himself, pulling back from the wolf, a laugh leaving him when a paw hit against his arm before the wolf returned to her side, laying down beside her with his head in her lap.

"I understand now," Merlin said, subtly wiping at his eyes and Hermione gave him a look to encourage him to continue. "Since your arrival in Camelot, I have often felt as though I were being watched or followed, and whenever I would turn around I would see him."

Well, that answered the question to where Akela would disappear to, Hermione thought.

"He was watching over you, ensuring that you were safe," she said softly. "Just as he does for me. He wanted to ensure that you were taking care of yourself, that you were being careful and that you were happy."

"He hasn't left us, has he?" He said, his eyes trained on the wolf whose eyes were closed but his ears twitched as though he were listening to them talking about him.

"No, he hasn't left us and I believe that he will always find a way to be with us."

"We should get back to the castle," Merlin said, pulling himself to his feet.

Hermione, knowing he no longer wished to discuss the whole idea of her wolf being a reincarnation of his best friend and that he needed some time to process the news, nodded in agreement. She gently nudged the wolf off her and stood to her feet, brushing the dirt off her dress the best she could and then extinguishing the balls of light, plunging the area into darkness.

She conjured her blue-bell flames and a smile pulled at her mouth when Merlin did the same without issue, and Akela took the lead, guiding them back through the woods and towards the castle.

"I hear you are rather busy in the city," Merlin spoke, changing the topic of conversation to one that was more comfortable for the both of them.

"Where'd you hear that?" She asked.

"Arthur," he replied, his mouth pulling into a knowing smirk as he looked down at her.

She forced down the blush and levelled him with a none too pleased scowl.

"I swear, I will thump you," she threatened and he laughed at her. "I might be small, but I know how to defend myself."

"I know," he nodded, his dark blue eyes sparkling with amusement in the firelight. "I have never seen Arthur as proud as he was in the moment he discovered that you had broken Thorley Harte's nose."

"Well, he deserved it," she huffed. "And if you continue with that line of thought, you shall have firsthand experience of how Thorley felt in that very moment."

Merlin laughed loudly and in doing so, tripped over a tree root. Hermione reached out, gripping him by his shirt to steady him and laughter peeled from her as his laughter grew louder.

"Yes, I am kept rather busy," she continued once they'd calmed down. "It's been only a week since my arrival and I cannot believe how much I have accomplished in such little time, though I owe it all to Arthur. If it weren't for him, I would not be where I am now. It took a day or two for the people to come to me, but once they did word has now spread and I find myself with more patients than I can cope with, thankfully, I have Charles and with such an influx in patients, it not only keeps me busy, allows me to meet the citizens but it gives me the opportunity to teach Charles, too. I suspect I shall be seeing the people from the other parts of the lower city soon enough and it will soon quieten down once I have treated everyone that needs it."

"Arthur is proud of you," he told her.

"I'm sure he's not," she replied, once more forcing down the blush.

"He is," Merlin said adamantly. "Since your arrival, you are all he seems to talk about and even before, you were often mentioned in our conversations."

She could no longer help it, her face flamed red.

"Arthur is very protective of you, as we have _all_ witnessed."

He was referring to his behaviour after they'd found her in the woods, after he'd discovered what had happened with Thorley, after his reaction to Thorley's attempt on her life, after the way he'd stood beside her at the announcement of his execution and then he'd rested his hand on the small of her back later that evening when his head had been removed from his body.

"He is just being kind and is only ensuring that I am safe as I am a visiting royal."

Merlin actually scoffed at her and she levelled him with a glare.

"I know you are not stupid, Hermione. You are one of the most, if not, _the_ smartest person I have ever met. Arthur is not protecting you out of his duty to the throne and you being a visiting royal, he is doing so because he cares for you. I am his servant, I know him better than his own father, and I know that Arthur is falling in love with you, just as you are falling in love with him."

Godric! First, Gwen and now Merlin. When would the torture end?

She halted in her steps and Merlin did so, too, looking at her over his shoulder with a concerned gaze.

"He cannot love me, Merlin," she said quietly, sadly. "Just as I cannot love him. We are not meant to be."

"Why?"

Because of Gwen, the timeline, history, she wanted to yell but couldn't.

"You know why," she spoke, taking a breath and striding past him, continuing with her steps.

Merlin was soon beside her, watching her as she deliberately kept her attention focused forward.

"Arthur is not King Uther. He will not punish you for having magic. He will not love you any less."

"No? Then why have you kept your secret from him for so long, Merlin?" She questioned. "If he truly wouldn't care, why does he not know of all the sacrifices you have made to protect him?"

"Our circumstances are different," he muttered.

"Are they? Do you not care for Arthur the same as I? Do you not wish to protect him from harm the same as I? Do you not believe he is destined to be the greatest King Camelot has ever and will ever see, the same as I?"

Merlin remained silent, a frown on his face.

"Exactly," she sighed. "Arthur and I can never be, Merlin. I cannot be the one he marries, no matter how much I may care for him or how much the thought of him being with another woman hurts. Arthur and I are not written in the stars."

"I don't believe that. Everything happens for a reason. What are the odds that Arthur happens to meet a woman, a _Princess_ , such as yourself in a small village that is being terrorised? It _was_ meant to be. I believe that love always finds a way. I _know_ that it will be _you_ that shows Arthur the goodness of magic, not I. You will be the reason magic returns to Camelot. I believe that you and Arthur _will_ one day marry and you _will_ be the greatest and kindest rulers that have ever been seen."


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 11

It was the day Hermione had been dreading.

This day she was accustomed to being surrounded by her friends and loved ones. She was accustomed to waking to a pile of gifts at the end of her bed and to an owl or two swooping into the great hall to deliver her post, bringing with it a letter and selection of perfectly wrapped gifts. She was accustomed to going about her day, as usual, enjoying her lessons and eating a lovely dinner before returning to the common room where there'd been a cake Mrs. Weasley had sent and Hermione would blush red as her friends serenaded her. But this would be the third year she would be without the tradition.

The first had been the year of her being a fugitive. They'd quickly ran out of resources, Ron had always been complaining or in a mood, Harry had always been silent and brooding and she had done her best to be the glue that would hold them together. The entire day had almost passed without her noticing, until Harry pulled a little wrapped gift out of nowhere and she'd cried herself to sleep. Ron had forgotten, but she hadn't blamed him.

The second year was that of the year she'd arrived in the past. She'd done her absolute best to avoid remembering all of the good times of the previous years. She'd locked herself away and cried for God knows how long, until William had gotten worried at her lack of presence in the village and gone in search of her. He'd found her curled up in bed, crying and feeling sorry for herself and in her vulnerable state, it hadn't taken much for him to get the truth out of her. He'd disappeared and returned a couple of hours later, a steaming apple pie being held in his hands and a wide grin on his face. She knew he had little resources and the fact he'd used them to make something solely for her, had prompted her to burst into tears once more. That year she'd gotten through the day because she had William, the only one that truly felt like family to her.

And now this year, William was gone and she was alone. It helped somewhat that she had Akela by her side, but not wanting to repeat her actions of the previous year, she'd woken and dressed with purpose, steeling her emotions and prepared to spend the day helping others. When the day was over and she woke in the morning, everything would be fine again.

This day was her 20th birthday.

~000~000~000~

It wasn't unusual for Arthur to see Merlin scurrying around like a headless chicken, but it was unusual to see him doing so with a large grin on face. No one enjoyed chores, especially the chores he gave him for his own entertainment.

Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, Arthur pulled his attention from watching the sword fight between two of his Knights and towards his manservant, suspicion sinking in. He'd seen Merlin disappear into the woods not too long ago but thought nothing of it, knowing he often collected ingredients and herbs for Gaius, but when Merlin made a reappearance, crossing the training grounds with dirt smudged across his face and staining his knees and a wide smile on his face, he knew Merlin was up to something.

Arthur sheathed his sword at his hip and crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing.

"Merlin!" He called.

He didn't respond.

"Merlin!" Arthur called louder, spying the way Merlin faltered in his steps before he continued walking as if nothing had happened.

Arthur's eyes narrowed into a baleful glare.

"MERLIN!" He yelled. "I know you can hear me."

Merlin visibly stopped in his steps and winced.

"Get over here or I'll make you clean out the stables with your bare hands," he threatened, seeing Merlin sigh and hearing his Knights sniggering before they turned their attention back to the sword fight.

Arthur stepped away from the group, crossing the grounds until he could still hear the Knights behind him and Merlin came to a stop in front of him. Arthur's eyes scanned his manservant's face slowly before lowering until they landed on a basket. Usually, he wouldn't have been suspicious, except for the fact this was a nicer basket than he would usually use to collect Gaius' ingredients and he was certain Merlin preferred his satchel.

Arthur leaned forward slightly, peering down and into the basket only Merlin shifted a cloth to hide its contents from his view.

"What's in there, Merlin?" Arthur asked his manservant.

"Nothing," he replied innocently.

"No? Then show me what you're hiding," he said, reaching to pull the cloth away only Merlin took a step back and hid the basket behind his back, out of reach. Arthur's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Merlin," he said in a tone of warning, taking a step forward and Merlin took a step back.

"Yes, Sire?" He questioned.

"Show me the basket."

"It's mine."

"That is not what I asked or commanded. Show me what you are hiding."

"I'm not hiding anything, Sire," Merlin responded.

"I swear, if you do not show me what you are hiding, you will not only clean out the stables with your bare hands, you will not only have to polish every piece of armour, weaponry and silver in the castle, but, I will reassign you to the kitchens."

Arthur's mouth twitched into a victorious smile at the way Merlin winced as if the thought alone was painful, which it was. Arthur knew how horrid the kitchen staff was and they were very territorial. They hated newcomers and others interfering with their work. Even as a royal, Arthur had always made it a point to avoid going to the kitchens, even as a child. He'd always send someone else to do his bidding.

"Are you going to show me what's in the basket?" He asked his manservant.

Merlin did something he most certainly wasn't expecting. He stood his ground, lifted his head and straightened his posture.

"No."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"You can't have it, it's not for you."

"Then who is for?"

"Hermione,"

Arthur's hand halted as it made to reach for the basket and he felt his brow furrow in confusion as he stared at his manservant questioningly. What was hidden in the basket that was so important and meant for Hermione, that he couldn't see it?

"Why do have a gift for Hermione?" He questioned suspiciously as he was certain that had been Merlin's intentions. To gift it to the pretty Princess.

Merlin frowned in confusion. "You don't know, do you?"

"Know what?" He snapped in annoyance.

"Oh," Merlin's eyes widened. "It's Hermione's birthday, she's twenty-years-old."

Arthur felt his eyes widen, his hand drop down to his side and his heart drop into his stomach. It was Hermione's birthday? How hadn't he known? Why hadn't she told him? Why did Merlin know before him? Oh Gods! He hadn't gotten her gift. What was he going to do?

Forgetting or not celebrating the birthday of the woman you were falling in love with and had every intention of one-day marrying would never be forgiven or forgotten. His father would kill him if he discovered he hadn't known of Hermione's birthday, not only as she was a visiting royal, but would hopefully one day be a member of the family and as such, the King would wish to throw a feast in Hermione's honour, something he knew Hermione would protest.

What was he going to do? How was he going to find the perfect gift for the woman that didn't seem to care for or want anything? When Morgana's birthday drew near, he'd usually spend weeks searching for the perfect gift as he knew she was particular in her clothing and jewellery. But Hermione? Despite knowing as much as he did in such a little time, he had no idea what to gift her. None at all! And he had very little time to find a solution.

His eyes darted down to the basket in Merlin's grasp. Merlin seemed to be close to Hermione, they had a bond Arthur couldn't understand or describe and though he hated to admit how jealous he sometimes felt when he saw them conversing and whispering between themselves, he knew he should be grateful that Hermione had made friends with someone he could trust to keep her safe. And that friendship may very well be his saving grace as he stared at the basket.

Arthur reached out for the basket and tried to pull it from Merlin but the manservant stepped back.

"Merlin, give me the basket," Arthur ordered.

"No," he responded.

"Merlin," his voice lowered in warning and he took a threatening step forward.

"No."

Arthur lunged forward and reached around Merlin, grabbing the basket until Merlin twisted and the basket was held in-between them, the Prince and sorcerer fighting for the upper-hand in what depicted a game of tug and war.

"Give it to me."

"No, it's mine. You can't have it," Merlin argued.

"Merlin, I swear, I will make your life a living nightmare."

"You already do," Merlin fired back.

"Merlin, I need a gift to give to Hermione."

"Find your own, this is mine. I've spent all morning searching and trekking through the woods."

In a show of strength that Arthur hadn't expected, Merlin was able to tug the basket out of his grip and the manservant stumbled back, once more hiding it behind his back and out of his reach.

"Merlin..."

"No, you need to find your own gift for her. She knows me, she knows what I will gift her and what I won't. If you give her my gift, she will know that you were not the one to acquire it. You need to give her something meaningful, something to show her you care."

"She doesn't care for jewellery or clothing," Arthur said frustrated, running a hand through his hair.

"I know, so give her something only you can give her, something she will appreciate. Now, I need to finish collecting the items for her gift basket," his manservant said before he spun on his heel and all but ran from the training grounds and towards the castle, leaving him very confused, very agitated and in a bit of a panic.

He had to get this right. This was something he couldn't risk messing up. This could majorly tip the balance of their relationship in either direction.

~000~000~000~

Arthur nervously paced back and forth in the entrance courtyard of the castle, waiting for Hermione to return to the castle after a long day of tending to the city's people.

After Merlin had left and seeing the amused, pitied looks that graced the faces of his Knights after they'd overheard his conversation with Merlin, he'd sent them all withering looks before storming off the training grounds and to the privacy of his chambers, where he'd spent hours trying to think of the perfect gift and had been unsuccessful. Thinking he needed to clear his mind to better focus, he took a stroll through the castle until he happened upon Guinevere, and after asking for her advice, he'd concluded she'd been no help at all.

It wasn't until he wandered past the library that inspiration struck and after making a detour inside, he left with an armful of books and a smile on his face, whilst the bookkeeper had been tripping over himself to aid in his search, especially since Arthur couldn't remember the last time he'd visited the library. Had he ever?

After making his way back towards his chambers, he took a little known shortcut through one of the banquet halls and as he did, inspiration struck once more and he changed his destination to the kitchens. Given how important that day was and that he proved to Hermione that he truly cared for her, he put aside his immediate instinct to avoid the kitchens and send someone else and he allowed his determination to do well to override the fear, not that he was afraid... Of course, he wasn't.

As he stepped into the kitchen, all activity stopped and every pair of eyes turned to him, silence falling in the room. He felt rather uncomfortable but cleared his throat and straightened his posture, looking confident and commanding.

His original plan had been to request that certain foods be prepared for dinner that evening, foods that he'd observed Hermione favouring over the others in the weeks she'd been at Camelot, but something stopped him from doing do so. A conversation he remembered having with Guinevere in which she'd scolded him for lying about preparing dinner after he'd promised to make it as a thank you for allowing him to stay in her home.

It was expected that he would be unable to cook, having had servants to do it for him all of his life, he couldn't ever remember making a single meal for himself but after Guinevere had said it was more impressive and appreciated if he were to cook for himself, he decided on doing exactly that for Hermione. He was going to cook dinner for her. It had barely taken any convincing that the workers aid him in his quest but it was clear they very much would've preferred to have done it themselves and without his presence in the kitchen. But with him being the Prince, they didn't dare voice their opinions.

Once everything had been taken care of, Arthur returned to his chambers and called for Merlin and once his manservant had arrived, he quickly washed himself clean of the flour and eggs and changed into clean clothing, a dark blue shirt, dark breeches and dark boots. He then sent Merlin down to the stables to retrieve his mare and have her readied for travelling before he retrieved his cape and the books and headed down to the entrance courtyard.

The books had been packed into the saddlebags and the food had been collected from the kitchen as well as a blanket before they were put into the saddlebags, too, and now Arthur was just waiting on Hermione to return, which he knew wouldn't be much longer.

He had originally thought of taking two horses before he remembered that Hermione couldn't ride, in which, he made a mental note to make time to teach her once her presence in the city wasn't needed as frequently and he thought that to not be much longer. In the two weeks she'd been in Camelot, she'd tended to almost half of the lower city.

"Arthur?"

Arthur startled and whipped around, halting in his steps and letting out a sigh as he saw it was only his father, stood in the doorway of the entrance doors and watching him with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, Father?" He questioned.

"Are you planning a hunt?" He asked.

Arthur silently berated himself, he knew he'd forgotten something and that was to send word to his Father that neither he nor Hermione would be present at dinner that evening.

"No, once Hermione returns to the castle, I shall be taking her off the grounds for the evening; neither of us will be attending dinner."

"The reason being?"

"It is Hermione's birthday," he answered and a brief flash of surprise crossed his father's face before his blank expression returned. "Yes, I was surprised by the discovery, too. I will be spending this evening with her without the presence of guards or servants or any who may see us."

His father's lip twitched in amusement. "Very well, do ensure that you are careful and well prepared."

"Of course, Father," Arthur tipped his head.

"And with this new information, it would be a travesty to not celebrate such an event. I will have a celebratory feast planned and readied for tomorrow evening and have the noble families of Camelot invited," he said and then he turned and was gone from the doorway.

Arthur ran a hand through his hair, knowing Hermione wouldn't much appreciate the gesture as she hated such events, before he returned to his nervous pacing, only coming to a halt when he saw Akela step into the entrance courtyard and that meant Hermione wasn't far behind him.

The large wolf came to a stop in front of him and tilted his head to the side as if he were confused by his behaviour and Arthur let out a sigh.

"I'm just nervous, I know it's Hermione's birthday and I'm unsure if she will like the gifts I have gotten her."

For the second time since meeting the large wolf, he reached out with his nose and nudged at his hand and Arthur slowly raised it to rest on his head, scratching the animal behind the ears.

"Thank you," he spoke.

Hearing Hermione's voice as she conversed with her guards, Arthur drew his hand back and readjusted his posture, the wolf letting out a snorting sound before he walked off and headed into the castle, apparently not feeling the need to accompany Hermione for the rest of the evening. Arthur found himself standing taller than usual at the feelings the wolf's behaviour invoked within him, as the wolf had all but confirmed he trusted him to ensure Hermione's safety and well-being without his presence. Arthur knew that was the highest approval he could achieve and likely the one Hermione would most care for.

Hermione approached wearing a dark cloak to protect her from the chill in the evening air and beneath he spied a dark blue dress in the style he now knew she wore only when in the lower city and when carrying out her duties as a physician. They were practical and comfortable and she didn't mind if they were to get dirty or stained, but when she returned to the castle she always changed into a dress that was more befitting of a Princess. But to Arthur, she looked beautiful no matter her clothing. Her hair hung down her back in tangled curls but was clipped back from her face with pretty pins and she reached up to push a curl out of her face after it was tousled by the breeze.

"Arthur," Hermione greeted with that pretty smile he was growing to love. "I admit, I was a little worried when I did not see you in the city this day."

Arthur felt a little guilty that he hadn't been present that day as he'd made it a point to visit for a few hours several times a week, allowing him to see Hermione when she was most happy and allowing him to teach the four orphans the basics of sword fighting and self-defence, and not just the boys either, in fact, other children had started making an appearance and at the sight of Hermione's happy tears, he hadn't been able to turn them away and instead retrieved more equipment to accommodate the growing crowd. He admitted that he hadn't solely done it for Hermione but because he found that he enjoyed interacting with the children and he learned more about the city's people and gained their respect, too. Something that was imperative to a King.

"I have been kept occupied by other matters," he replied.

"Nothing too serious I hope," she spoke with a concerned frown and she came to a stop before him, gently clasping her hands in front of her body and her eyes darted to his horse and then back to him. "Are you going hunting this evening?" She asked curiously.

Arthur looked to her guards, "You are excused for the remainder of the evening; your services will not be required."

They both bowed with a 'Sire' and 'Your Highness' before turning and heading back into the city and Arthur turned his attention back to Hermione's confused expression.

"No, I am not hunting this evening but I do plan on leaving the grounds. I was wondering if you would care to join me," he replied, giving her the smile he knew he only reserved for her, it was charming but not overly so, it was genuine and happy, something he found came easy to him when she was in his presence.

"And if I were to come with you, where would we be going?" She asked.

"That is a surprise."

She scowled in annoyance and pursed her lips but otherwise did not comment. He knew her curiosity would get the better of her, he just had to wait.

"Very well, but I should probably change first," she said, making as if to run inside the castle and up to her chambers to do just that.

Arthur stepped in front of her, preventing her from doing do. "You look lovely,"

She blushed and his mouth pulled into a smile at the colouring in her cheeks.

"Still, I shouldn't be seen in such a state."

"You look lovely," he repeated, her blush darkening and his smile widened before he held his hand out in offering and she gently placed her own in his and he guided her forward and towards his mare.

"Everything is packed, Sire," Merlin spoke.

Arthur simply nodded and then excused him, seeing the way his manservant sent Hermione a knowing look before he disappeared. Filing away the exchange for later analysis, Arthur helped Hermione onto the horse, ensured his cape was securely fastened around his neck, he slipped on his riding gloves and then mounted the horse, settling behind Hermione and reaching for the reins, trapping her between his arms and against his body.

"It's not too far a journey," he said, before lightly kicking his mare and she took off in a gentle walk, Arthur nodding to the guards as they left the grounds.

They received many glances as they journeyed through the city and they both diligently ignored them unless someone called out a greeting and they tipped their heads and smiled in response.

"And how has this day found you, Hermione?" Arthur asked to fill the time.

"Busy," she responded and he hadn't expected anything less. "I believe I will have treated or seen to the majority of the lower city within the next two weeks, after which, things will quieten down and I will have more time to dedicate to other duties. Charles is doing remarkably well and he is an incredibly quick learner and within a few weeks, I trust that he will be able to run the practice without my presence but I will be sure to always be nearby should he need my assistance."

"And what are your plans after?"

"I promised I would teach Farley and Kenelm to read and write and I wish to do the same for the other children but there are far too many to do so by myself. I've a solution that would mean I would gather a group of adults who I would teach to read and write, and then I would put them in charge of teaching the children of the city, freeing up my time and giving these people a purpose."

"And with that free time what will you do?"

"I wish to build an orphanage. There are many children that suffer just as Charles and his brothers did before I showed them kindness. And that is all they need. They need someone to show them kindness, to ensure their safety, that they are being fed and clothed and kept warm. So, with my time I wish to open an orphanage that would house the children and will be run by staff that will care for them."

"I have not been able to do much for the people and certainly not as much as I would like to do," Arthur started, "And having not visited the lower city until recently, I was aware of the struggles and suffering but not that it was to the extent I witnessed. That day I realised that such fates were a reality and after hearing of Charles' situation and that there were others who were suffering the same, I knew I would not be able to sleep at night knowing that there were children that were cold and hungry and afraid, so, I went to my father and I proposed that we build an orphanage."

He heard the hitch in her breath and felt her shift as she twisted to look at him over her shoulder, their eyes locking.

"The council had been against the notion but we do not currently have such a facility in Camelot, I was able to convince him it was the right decision and he sided against the council. Plans are currently being made and we expect construction to begin within the next week or two."

"You are having an orphanage built?" She asked quietly.

"Yes, and you will not pay a single coin to it. It will be paid by the throne. And I am aware that you are spending an incredible amount of coin on the citizens of Camelot, a place that is not your Kingdom, and after bringing this to my father, you will be reimbursed for any coin you may spend that is not on yourself."

Her mouth parted in surprise. "I have plenty of gold, Arthur."

"But you will not if you continue to spend it on things that should be provided by the city. The council refuse to fund the facilities and deals you have made with the marketers, but, as you are a visiting royal and you are spending your coin on our people, it is making the throne look as though we cannot look after our own people and it will affect the opinions of other neighbouring Kingdoms. As such, the council cannot condone spending coin on the city and people, but they can with reimbursing you for your coin spent on our people."

She took a breath and her eyes closed briefly. "I cannot believe you are having an orphanage built."

"I'm beginning to understand you and the way you think, I knew it would be a matter of time before you mentioned wishing to build an orphanage and this is something that Camelot needs, something that will better the children who will one day bring forth the next generation."

"You do not stop surprising me," she commented softly.

"And that is good?" He questioned.

"Yes, exceptionally so."


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 12

Arthur could practically feel Hermione's confusion as they reached the gates that would lead from Camelot and into the woods and rather than passing through, they took a left and followed the length of the large wall for a quarter of an hour before he took a right and they passed through a small wooded area of thick trees.

Once they stepped out, a little gasp fell from Hermione at the sight of the field of wildflowers and a small stream, a beam of sun breaking through the clouds and reflecting off the water. Arthur smiled, being glad that Hermione appreciated the simple and quiet beauty of the area. This had always been a favourite of his as a child, a place he could hide away from the many servants and guards in the castle and have some time for himself. The stream actually led back to the castle grounds but Arthur had wanted to spend a little time with Hermione before they arrived and so had taken the scenic route through the city.

"It's beautiful," Hermione commented softly. "I didn't know this was here."

"Not many do," Arthur replied. "I found it when I was a child, I remember your disappointment at the castle not having a garden and thought you would appreciate this. This has always been a place of solace for me and now it can be for you, too."

"Thank you, Arthur,"

"There is no thanks necessary, but I would like for you to close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Please, Hermione, close your eyes."

"Fine, but only because I trust you," she replied.

Gods, did he love hearing those words from her.

"Don't move, I'll only be gone a moment and keep hold of the reins but don't pull on them. As long as you are calm, the horse will not move," he instructed before he passed the reins into her hands and quickly dismounted the horse.

He collected the blanket from the saddlebag and set it on the ground by the stream, not too far from the edge but not so close they might fall in. After doing so, he returned to collect the food items and plates and set them down, too, before pulling the stack of books free and placing them on the blanket, too.

"You're not peaking are you?" He asked, letting her know he was still nearby.

"No, I would never," she laughed.

"I'm not sure I believe you," he replied amused, making his way back to the horse and holding his hand out. "Give me your hand but keep your eyes closed," he instructed.

She released the reins and held her hand out, him reaching for it and gently guiding it towards his shoulder and once it rested against it, he asked for her other hand which she held out and he repeated the process. With her bent over, his body being the only thing keeping her from falling, he reached out and settled his hands on her waist, lifting her from the horse until her feet hit the ground. She stepped back from him and smoothed out her cloak and dress but her eyes remained closed and he retrieved the last item from his saddlebag before taking her hand in his and guiding her forward towards the blanket.

"Open your eyes," he spoke.

The moment her eyes fluttered open and she blinked until her vision cleared, a gasp of surprise fell from her mouth, her eyes darted about the blanket and the food items and then she turned to look at him with wide eyes and parted lips.

"I don't understand," she said quietly.

He smiled down at her with that smile he reserved for her. "Happy birthday, Hermione," he said, bringing his other arm from behind his back and revealing the bouquet of flowers he held. Her eyes widened further. "I remember your reaction to Tobyn having brought you flowers and thought you would appreciate the gesture."

He'd crossed paths with Guinevere on his way back to his chambers after his visit to the kitchens and with what he already had planned, he'd been reminded of the expression she'd worn on her face when the little boy had gifted her a handful of wildflowers and he remembered what she'd said about having a love for being in a garden surrounded by flowers. With that in mind, he'd recruited Guinevere who had been more than happy to make a quick trip to the market place before closing and purchase the largest, brightest and most beautiful flowers they had available.

"Arthur..." She breathed out, blinking slowly and then giving her head a shake. "They are beautiful, thank you," she said, reaching for the flowers and taking them from him, her nose burying against the soft petals as she inhaled their scent with a smile on her face. "You didn't have to do all this for me. How did you know it was my birthday, I never told anyone?"

"Merlin," he responded.

"And _how_ did he know?" She grumbled beneath her breath and his mouth twitched in amusement, thinking that his manservant had likely given her his gift earlier in the day.

"This is your first birthday in Camelot, I would never forgive myself if we did not celebrate the day, a woman such as yourself, was born to this world."

She blushed furiously and his mouth pulled into a smile before he guided her forward a little more with the hand that still held hers and he helped her to sit. She folded her legs beneath her and readjusted the skirt of her dress before carefully putting the flowers onto the ground and then resting her hands in her lap as he removed his cape and then took a seat opposite her.

He handed her a plate and removed the coverings on the dishes, revealing a meat pie, some bread and cheese, some lemon cakes, an apple pie and a handful of apples, bananas and some berries.

She blinked in surprise. "Are they..." She trailed off, unable to finish her sentence.

"Your favourite foods? Yes, they are," he smiled. "And I should warn you to proceed with caution, this afternoon is the first time I have ever prepared a meal myself."

"You...You made all of this yourself?" She questioned, astounded by the news.

"Yes, Guinevere told me it is much more impressive and appreciated if one is to prepare the food and not have others do it for them. Though I must admit, I did have some help from the kitchens so I can't imagine the food being too bad for our health."

She let out a breathless laugh, her eyes tearing up and causing them to sparkle. "What a way to die," she replied and he chuckled at her. "And Gwen is correct, it is much more appreciated as it shows you took the time to personally prepare the food and it requires more effort than simply sending an order to the kitchens. Whether or not the food is good or bad, I truly appreciate the gesture and it is one I have never before experienced, so thank you, Arthur."

He smiled at her and mentally patted himself on the back, being glad that he'd made the right decision and so far, everything seemed to be going to plan. He allowed Hermione to choose her own helpings of the food first, noting with a smile that her food portions were increasing by the day and she already appeared to have put on a little weight so she no longer looked malnourished or underfed. After he chose his own helpings and they ate with conversation flowing between them comfortably and Arthur was surprised to find the food he'd prepared didn't actually taste that bad and he certainly could've done worse for a first attempt.

They then moved onto the apple pie, lemon cakes and Hermione nibbled at the berries before she'd eaten her fill and she put her plate aside and then she did something he hadn't seen anyone do before. She shifted until she was laid on her back, her legs crossed at the ankles delicately and her hands resting against her stomach as she stared up at the sky.

"What are you doing?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"My mother and I used to do this when I was a child," she said, patting the space beside her in invitation.

His curiosity getting the better of him, he put his own plate aside and laid down beside her, mimicking her position and staring up at the clouds, his shoulder brushing hers they were so close.

She raised her arm and gestured to the sky, "Do you see that cloud?" She questioned.

He looked to her pointed finger and squinted his eyes until he found the cloud she meant. "Yes?"

"It looks like a horse."

Arthur frowned slightly and tilted his head, his eyes narrowing in concentration until he saw it. She was right, it did look like a horse and he blinked in surprise.

"It does," he agreed and she laughed lightly at his surprised response.

"Depending on the weather, my mother and I would eat lunch outside in the garden and afterwards we'd lay on the ground and look up at the sky, seeing what shapes, forms or animals we could see in the clouds."

"You seem to have been close with your mother," he commented softly, not wanting to upset her as he knew of the death of her parents. "That one looks like a chair," he said, raising his own hand and gesturing to the cloud.

"And that one a shield," she replied, gesturing to another. "I was with both my parents, I was their only child and I never wanted for anything, especially attention. I would watch my mother in the garden and we'd watch the clouds together, and my father, he taught me to read and every night, he'd tuck me into bed and tell me a story, he'd call me his 'Little Princess' and kiss me on the forehead and he'd stay with me until I fell asleep. He was the last thing I saw and my mother was always the first as she woke me for breakfast with her singing. She wasn't brilliant but that didn't matter, it was comforting and calming. My father taught me to dance, he used to stand me on his feet and dance around the room or garden whilst my mother sang a song. My mother taught me to cook and my father would always be in the kitchen, sitting at the table as he watched the mess we made as we prepared the food," she said with a fond sadness to her tone.

"Do you miss them?"

"Every single day," she said quietly. "Despite how long may have passed, I miss them and I think of them every day, wondering if they would be proud of me, of everything I strive to achieve."

"I am certain they are, Hermione," he replied. "You are an incredible woman and it would be impossible for any parent to not be proud of a child with the same morals, intentions and kindness as you."

"Thank you, Arthur," she responded quietly. "That is something I needed to hear, especially on this day. And you? Where you close to your parents?"

"My mother died in childbirth, I never knew her. I used to ask my father about her but he'd always change the subject, it being too painful for him. I do not know much about my mother, only what the servants would tell me and I learned to stop asking. When I was a child, I used to sneak into my father's chambers as he has a portrait of my mother on the wall. Whenever I missed her, I would just sit and stare at the painting but I was caught once by my father and I stopped going to see her. It seems stupid, to miss someone you never knew."

"It's not stupid, Arthur," she said softly. "It's understandable. You wanted to know who your mother was and the only way for you to feel close to her was to sit before her portrait."

He could feel her eyes on him and he turned his head, seeing that she'd done the same and their gazes locked instantly.

"I love my father, but I cannot help but wonder about the kind of person my mother was. The kind of mother she would've been. The advice she would give, the comfort she would offer if I were upset, the words she would use to calm me if I were anxious or angry. Even the person my father would've been if my mother were still here."

"It is _not_ stupid," she echoed. "I have my mother's locket and my father's sword, items I will always cherish and I will never give up. All you had was the portrait to keep your mother's memory alive."

He felt something inside of him settle. He wasn't certain what it was but it was as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he suddenly felt lighter, freer. He'd never spoken of his mother to another before but doing so with Hermione had felt right, natural, freeing.

"I may not be as close to my father as I have seen some of the nobles and their sons, but I understand that a part of my father died the day he lost my mother. He was suffering the loss of the woman he loved and he did the best he could to be the father I needed. He did not teach me to read, to fight or to ride a horse, but I know he cared and I know that he would give his life for mine without thought."

"He loves you. From the impression I got on our first meeting, he struggles to show his emotions as he has spent years holding them back and hiding them from others. He always has a blank expression on his face and it is not often he shows emotion, so when he does, it is unexpected but meaningful. I grew up surrounded by teenage boys that tried to hide their emotions from me and as a result, I grew to be very good at reading people and seeing the emotions they try to hide. Because of that, I _know_ he loves you. I believe he has made mistakes in the past but he did what he thought was right for Camelot and that is all I can ask of a King who truly cares for his people."

"Thank you, that is something I needed to hear," he said.

She gave him a soft smile before turning her eyes back to the clouds above them. "That one is a tree."

He let his eyes wander back to the sky, too. "That's a wolf."

"Where?"

"Right there," he pointed to the cloud he meant.

"I don't see it," she frowned, tilting her head slightly.

"What do you mean you don't see it? That is clearly a wolf."

"How is _that_ a wolf?"

"There's the ears, the nose and the tail," he replied, gesturing to each part with a wiggle of his finger.

She laughed at him and shook her head. "Akela would not be impressed, that is clearly _not_ a wolf. If he were here, I believe he would take offence to your words and bite you."

"It _is_ a wolf," he argued. "It's not my fault you don't have the imagination to see it."

"Or your mind is over-exaggerating what you actually see. That's a sign of insanity."

He laughed at her. "I'm not sure if I should be offended or not."

"Well, there is a fine line between insanity and brilliance," she shrugged.

He chuckled and turned his attention back to the clouds. They fell silent for a few moments before he spoke.

"What do you fear the most?" He asked.

He felt her surprise in the way her shoulder brushed his as she moved, her hand fell from her stomach and to the ground in-between them and he heard the slight noise that fell from her mouth.

"That is a highly personal question and one I most certainly wasn't expecting."

"It is not often we are able to speak as candidly as we are now without others being present or nearby. I am taking the opportunity to ask the questions I wish to and that will allow me to understand and know you in a way I don't yet, to know you more personally than any other might."

He turned to look at her, seeing the frown on her face and the way she nibbled at her lip thoughtfully and when she turned her eyes to him, he quickly looked away, almost being caught staring at her. Silence surrounded them for a little while longer and he thought she'd chosen not to answer his question, until her quiet voice drew him from his thoughts.

"William used to say I was fearless," she started. "He used to say he worried for me because I had no regard for my own life and I didn't hesitate to risk my life for the safety and protection of others. The truth is, I am afraid of many things but I do not fear death. The last ten years of my life have been stressful and exhausting and frightening. I have faced far too many near-death experiences to fear death. When it is my time, I shall not be afraid and I will go quietly, so whilst I don't fear death as most do, I fear many other things."

What did she mean by near-death experiences? He wanted to ask her to elaborate further but he knew she wouldn't, there were secrets in her past and memories she was determined to keep hidden and buried. He just hoped that one day she would trust him enough to tell him.

"Spiders, I _hate_ spiders. It might seem silly as they are known to be fairly harmless and it is generally something that might be seen as a natural fear for a Princess or noblewoman, but I have my reasons and they are legitimate. Firstly, I believe that anything with more than four legs and two eyes is unnatural and frightening, and secondly, in Hogwarts, our spiders are different."

"How so?" He asked curiously.

"They are magical creatures which stand taller than any man, possibly double my height and they will eat anything, especially humans. They are huge and terrifying and dark."

He felt his stomach roll at the thought of a spider such a size that ate humans. A part of him didn't believe her, didn't want to, was hoping that she was jesting to get a reaction from him but the genuine fear in her voice when she spoke was enough to convince him she was telling the truth. In which, he was thankful they had no such creatures in or around Camelot.

"Spiders _are_ terrifying," he agreed, seeing her mouth twitch from the corner of his eye.

"It's not quite a fear but I am highly uncomfortable when in large crowds or being the centre of attention. Sometimes I am frightened by thunder and lightning storms, too."

"But what do you fear most?" He questioned, turning his head to look at her, seeing that she looked highly uncomfortable at revealing such a personal thing. "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

She took a deep breath. "Okay, but you first," she said quietly.

"I am most afraid of not being good enough. Of not being the King Camelot deserves. I am afraid of failing my Kingdom and people, that I will never be ready to rule and protect my people," he admitted, something he'd never told anyone before, let alone spoke aloud.

"Oh, Arthur," she said softly, her head turning and their gazes locking. "That is completely understandable and if you weren't afraid of such a thing I'd be concerned. You protect your people every time you pick up your sword and ride out into the woods to deal with the criminals and creatures that reside there, and just because you are a King sitting on a throne does not mean you will not continue to do the same. You are one of the kindest and bravest men I have ever met. There are few people I have truly believed in in my life and you are right at the top of that list. You are worried but I assure you, you have no reason to be. You will be the greatest King Camelot has ever seen."

"How do you know that?"

She smiled at him. "I just know things, Arthur. I can't explain how or why, but I do, and I _know_ you are destined for greatness, I have never been more certain of anything in my life. You are not alone, Arthur. There are people in your life that will do whatever they can to help you succeed and you can depend on them in every aspect of your life."

"I hope you are right."

"I am," she said confidently, her gaze holding his for a moment longer before her eyes fluttered closed and she took a breath. "What I fear most is love."

Despite her eyes being closed, he kept his gaze on her, waiting for them to flutter open so they could look at one another.

"I fear love. Everyone I have ever loved I have lost; my parents, my family, my friends, my home, William. I loved them all and I lost them all. And now I fear meeting new people and growing to love them, only to lose them. I fear falling in love. I fear that I have lost so many, that I won't be able to love him with the same intensity and he will grow to hate me. I fear that I no longer have the ability to love."

Arthur's heart broke for her, at her words, at the sadness in her tone, at her fear. How could she believe she was no longer capable of love? She was the most loving person he'd met.

"I am alone, Arthur. I have lost everyone," she whispered.

A tear fell from her closed eyes and down her cheeks and his hand automatically reached down to find hers, wrapping his larger hand around her smaller one and giving her a gentle squeeze. Her eyes fluttered open at the gesture and her eyes shone with her tears, sadness and fear.

"I am afraid of forever being alone. There are things that have I faced that no one will ever be able to understand or I won't ever be able to explain, and I fear that will push people away and I will become bitter and unloving."

"You are the most loving person I have ever met," he said truthfully. "You have a big heart, Hermione, and a lot of love to give. I understand the pain of losing those you love and I understand the fear it can bring, but you cannot live your life in fear. Is a life without love a life worth living?" He paused, taking a moment to compose himself as he prepared to speak his next words. "There is a man out there, Hermione. One that will not believe himself worthy of you or your love, but he will do everything in his power to prove to you that he will love and cherish you with every part of himself. You are _not_ alone. You have Akela, you have Merlin and Guinevere and you have me. I promise you will _always_ have me."

"I can't allow myself to fall in love, Arthur. If he is taken from me, if he does not love me the way I love him or vice versa, if we cannot be together, it will break me and I don't think I will survive such a blow."

"You will, but I think this is something you need not worry yourself over. I promise, there is a man that will love and protect you with every fibre of his being."

"How do you know that?" She whispered.

"I just know things," he shrugged, a smile pulling at his mouth when she laughed and she reached up to wipe her face with the sleeve of her cloak. "Now, no more tears, this a day for celebrating and I have yet to give you your gift."

"Gift?" She questioned confused.

He sat up but didn't release his hold on her hand and he reached for the stack of books that were off to the side and Hermione had yet to notice. Frowning slightly, Hermione pushed herself up into a sitting position and readjusted the skirt of her dress. With the books in hand, Arthur turned to face Hermione and he held them out to her, her eyes darting down to the offerings and widening at the sight of them.

"Happy birthday, Hermione.".

"You got me books?" She questioned in surprise, but the way her eyes lit up like sparkling stars at night had him believing he'd made the right decision.

"You mentioned that you loved to read and I know you are interested in the history of Camelot. These books contain information from the very founding of the city to the neighbouring Kingdoms and alliances and wars over the years, far more information than I would ever be able to tell you."

"Thank you, Arthur," she said, taking the books from him as delicately as she could as though they were a newborn baby and her fingers gently skimmed the cover of the first book. "Most would laugh at me but I much prefer books to jewellery and clothing, and I cannot wait until I have the opportunity to read them, thank you, it was very thoughtful of you."

"You're welcome," he smiled, pleased with her reaction and proud of himself. "The sun is setting," he commented, pulling her attention from the books and to the sky as oranges and yellows were slowly being replaced by blues and purples.

"It truly is beautiful here," she observed.

"I can honestly say I have seen more beautiful sights," he replied, her eyes darting to him and colour flooding her cheeks at seeing the gaze he pinned her with. "I should warn you, my father knows of your birthday and he is planning a feast in your honour for tomorrow evening."

"Oh fantastic," she grumbled, a scowl settling on her face and he chuckled at her.

As the evening grew darker, they continued to converse comfortably until Arthur could see Hermione struggling to keep her eyes open as exhaustion began to set in and she'd had a long day. Knowing it was getting late and his father would likely send someone in search of them if they didn't return to the castle soon, Arthur refastened his cape around his neck and quickly and quietly packed everything away into the saddlebags including Hermione's books, before he helped her onto his horse and climbed on behind her, grabbing the reins and settling her between his arms to prevent her from falling off in her tired state.

"Thank you for this evening, Arthur," she said tiredly as they made their way back to the castle. "I kept my birthday quiet as I didn't wish to celebrate it without my friends and family, but thanks to you, I have enjoyed myself and I haven't had a birthday quite like it."

"You deserve only the best, Hermione," he replied.

By the time they reached the castle and stepped through the gates into the entrance courtyard, Hermione had fallen asleep, the bouquet of flowers he'd gifted her clutched tightly in her hands.

A guard stepped forward to take the reins and steady his mare as he dismounted and then reached up to pull Hermione from the saddle, cradling her sleeping form in his arms.

"I take it everything went to plan," Merlin spoke, stepping out of the shadows and into the firelight, startling Arthur.

Arthur did his best to glare at his manservant in annoyance but couldn't stop his mouth from twitching at the corners, giving Merlin his answer. His manservant grinned knowingly and all but skipped to the saddlebags when Arthur gestured to them with a tip of his head, Merlin pulling free the stack of books and silently following Arthur as he made his way through the castle and to Hermione's chambers with the sleeping Princess in his arms.

When they arrived, Merlin opened the door for him before stepping back and giving him enough room to enter through the door, Arthur noting that someone had been there previously as the fireplace was lit with dancing flames, Hermione's bed had been turned down and Akela was sprawled on a blanket by the fireplace, his eyes closed but his ears perked up at the sound of him entering.

Arthur crossed over to the bed, settling Hermione down on the mattress and carefully removing the flowers from her grasp and placing them on the bedside table and then he removed her cloak and boots, leaving her in her dress and socks, knowing anything else he might do would be considered highly inappropriate and he didn't wish to take advantage of Hermione, not that her wolf would let him; he'd spied the wild creature watching him with one eye peeked open and the other closed.

Arthur reached for the edge of the blanket and pulled it to cover Hermione's sleeping form, taking a moment to watch her sleep peacefully and he gently pulled the pins from her hair, pushing her curls back from her face and trailing a finger down the soft skin of her cheek before he stepped back, placed the pins on the bedside table with the flowers and books, and he turned and left the room, nodding to the wolf on his departure.

The moment the door closed behind him, Arthur turned to Merlin with a thoughtful frown on his face and Merlin raised an eyebrow.

"How much do you know?"

"Know?" He replied innocently.

"Merlin," Arthur's voice deepened in warning.

"I am able to read between the lines," Merlin said. "In Ealdor I could see you had an interest in her and I have witnessed how protective you are of her, firstly, when we found her in the woods, and ever since she came to Camelot. I know that you are having private talks with your father more frequently, that you are spending more of your time in the city and you are ensuring Hermione's comfort and safety. All of this has led me to believe that you truly care for Hermione and that you wish to ask for her hand in marriage, which is why you had a meltdown when discovering it was Hermione's birthday."

Arthur eyed Merlin, partially surprised, partially impressed, partially annoyed.

"You are more observant than I gave you credit for," Arthur replied. "A missive has been sent to the Kingdom of Hogwarts and until we receive a reply, I cannot make my intentions towards Hermione known. For the time being, I am doing everything possible to prove that I am worthy of her and that I am the man she believes me to be."

"You are," Merlin said confidently, which surprised the young Prince.

"This evening, Hermione divulged a secret that has worried me and as such, I must increase my attempts at..."

"Wooing her?" Merlin interrupted with a grin.

Arthur sent him a baleful look but otherwise nodded. "Essentially, yes. You are her friend..."

"Not to worry, both myself and Gwen have been speaking in your favour."

"Excuse me?" The Prince questioned, blinking slowly.

Merlin sniggered at him. "It is no secret, those in the castle that have witnessed your interactions with Hermione are able to see that you care for her, Gwen is one of them and we have both been doing our best to give Hermione a nudge into letting down her barriers. Should I inform Gwen to continue doing so?"

Arthur cleared his throat and straightened his posture, sending Merlin a glare as it was obvious he was very much enjoying himself at his predicament.

"Hermione is stubborn and things have been progressing slowly, but this evening I was able to break down some of her barriers, still, having a woman on my side will be beneficial."

"I shall inform Gwen first thing in the morning," his manservant grinned. "I know she has expressed interest in learning from Hermione in her free time, I imagine Gwen will use that as her opportunity to speak with her. Do not worry, Prince Arthur, leave it to the servants and we'll have you married to the pretty Princess in no time."

Arthur contemplated stabbing Merlin with the pointy end of his sword as the manservant spun on his heel and all but skipped down the corridor.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 9

It was three weeks after her birthday bringing it up to a total of five weeks since she'd arrived in Camelot, and Hermione found herself sitting on a chair outside the medical hut with Kenelm perched in her lap and a handful of parchment paper held in her hand. As she did her best to teach the young child to read, every so often she would look up at the three older boys, seeing them laughing and play fighting with the wooden swords Arthur had left behind earlier in the day.

Now that she'd seen to the majority of the citizens of the lower city and she only saw to a couple of patients a day, Hermione found herself with more free time and she had been using that to make a start on teaching Harrow about his magic and to teach Farley and Kenelm how to read. Farley had already had someone teach him the basics before his parents had died and therefore he was picking things up quite quickly, Kenelm, on the other hand, was much younger and finding it a little more difficult but bless his little heart, Hermione knew he was trying his best.

Her original plan had been to gather a group of adults and teach them to read so they could teach the children in the city, but Gwen had offered to take over and she'd been able to convince some of her neighbours to be the ones to teach others how to read and write. Hermione couldn't complain, it not only gave them a purpose, but it allowed her more time to spend on other things whilst the children were still being taught, there was no loser in the situation.

And now that it had quieted down, Hermione was able to spend more time teaching Charles about the lesser-known illnesses and showing him how to make the cures, remedies and tonics. He was an incredibly fast learner and he had more than earned her trust and his wage of five gold coins a week with the effort he'd been putting in. In a few weeks, Hermione had every intention of stepping down and putting Charles in charge of running the medical hut. She would give him free rein whilst being sure to be close should he ever need her advice or help and once he'd settled in and had learned how to run the practice, she would name him a fully qualified physician and pass over the mantle of lower city physician to him for good. And the best part, Charles had no idea what she had planned and she couldn't wait to see the look on his face when they reached that point.

As Hermione lifted her gaze to quickly glance at the three boys and make sure they were fine, she caught sight of Gwen approaching.

"Okay, I think that is enough for now. You're doing really well and we'll have you reading in no time," Hermione said to the child on her lap.

"Can I play with the others?" Kenelm asked with a wide grin due to her praise.

"Of course, little one, but be careful and remember what Prince Arthur said about the swords. They may not be sharp, but they can still hurt you."

Hermione lifted him off her lap and to the ground and he darted over to the patch of grass where his brothers were playing, though it seemed Charles was taking it more seriously than the others. Hermione set the parchment down and stood from her chair, smoothing down her dress and she quickly glanced around her, seeing no sign of Akela. He'd disappeared several hours ago, likely to have gone hunting and she'd sent Michel and Emerick off for a little break not too long ago, the only reason they'd agreed to leave being no threats had been made against Hermione and everyone that resided in the lower city seemed to love and respect her after everything she'd done for them. She wasn't alone as she had the four boys with her and she knew they wouldn't have gone too far either and they'd be within hearing distance so she could call for them if she needed them.

"Gwen," Hermione greeted with a smile as the other woman came to a stop before her, her eyes darting to the four boys and a laugh leaving her before she turned back to Hermione. "Did you leave something behind?" Hermione asked.

Gwen had been spending several days a week at the medical hut, not wanting to be a physician in the way Charles did but rather she wished to know more about basic first aid and how to wrap or change bandages and things of that sort. During those times the future Queen always made it a point to talk about Arthur and Hermione wasn't stupid. She knew she was up to something, especially since Merlin had been doing the same when they went into the woods to train his magic.

"No, I was returning home when I crossed paths with Arthur. He has asked that I give you a message."

"And that is?" Hermione questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"He wishes for you to meet him by the entrance gates of the city later this evening. He said not to worry about changing your clothing but he advises that you bring your cloak."

"Do you know why?"

"I only know that he wishes for you to meet him by the gates," Gwen smiled innocently.

Hermione eyed her suspiciously but otherwise nodded. "Very well, thank you for coming all this way to speak with me."

"It wasn't a problem and I hope you enjoy your time with Arthur," Gwen smiled before she turned and walked away.

Hermione watched until she was no longer in view. She wasn't all that surprised that Arthur wished to meet with her; he'd been spending more time with her recently, especially since the evening of her birthday. Most of the time he took her back to the stream where they'd converse comfortably, cloud watched or he'd allow her to read one of the books he'd gifted her in silence, sometimes evening asking if she'd read aloud to him. Sometimes he'd accompany her on walks through the castle and around the grounds depending on the weather and other times he'd take a walk through the market place with her, and that was all as well as him not being far from the medical hut as she worked and he taught the children how to fight and defend themselves.

She supposed she should probably be a little suspicious of his intentions but she couldn't bring herself to be. She enjoyed his company, she enjoyed conversing with him, learning more about the person he was and the person he wished to be. It was nice having someone who cared for your opinions and who genuinely wished to spend time with you without wishing for something in return or having an ulterior motive. Hermione knew that in the long run, she would probably regret all the time she was spending with Arthur because each conversation and interaction had her falling a little deeper for him, but at this point, there was nothing she could do to stop it. She'd tried and had now resigned herself to her fate of being cursed to love a man that could never be with her.

Sighing, she turned back to the four boys, frowning slightly when she only counted three and realised Kenelm was missing.

"Kenelm!" She called, her eyes darting about in search of him. "Kenelm!"

"Up here!"

Hermione followed the sound of his voice until her eyes landed on the small child and her eyes widened in horror, a gasp of terror left her and her hands came up to press against her stomach, as if that would quell the instant nausea that caused her stomach to roll.

"Kenelm! Get down!" She commanded.

"Look how high I am! I can see everyone!" He called through a laugh.

To Hermione, it was no laughing matter. The young child was currently stood on a _very_ high tree branch, the only thing keeping him from falling was his grip on the branch beside him and with the height he stood above the ground and his smaller size and weaker body, she was certain the fall would kill him.

How the hell had he even managed to climb so high? She had to lift her head and squint her eyes just to see him through the thick leaves on the branches above him which almost hid him from view.

"Kenelm, get down!" She shouted.

Her voice drew the attention of the other boys and she heard their noises of surprise and horror but didn't dare turn her eyes from him. Everything after that happened so quickly.

There was a chorus of voices as both Harrow and Farley shouted for their brother to stay where he was and a blur of fabric rushed past her and to the tree, Hermione blinking until she realised that it was Charles and the moment he reached the far too large tree, he began to climb it as quickly as he could to reach the little boy.

"Charles, it's so fun up here!" Kenelm laughed as he bent over to look down at his older brother and that was when he lost his balance, his foot slipped as he tried to right himself, his hand missed the branch he grabbed for and he toppled backwards, heading straight for the ground.

A noise of terror was caught in the back of her throat and in a motion she hadn't realised she'd done, she threw her arm out and a pulse of magic burst within her and shot out of the tip of her fingers like a ripple in the water.

She chocked on her sob of relief and stumbled, almost collapsing to the ground when Kenelm was suddenly caught in mid-air, his screams of terror tapering off and his eyes slowly opening to see that he was bobbing gently in the air. Hermione had never been more grateful of the fact magic was instinctual, especially hers after all that she'd been forced to do over the years, and she'd never been more grateful that she'd decided to practice wandless and non-verbal magic. Although it was difficult, it was becoming like second nature to her now.

Hermione released a slow breath before she slowly lowered her hand to her side, Kenelm's form lowering to the ground as she did so until his feet gently touched the floor and she dropped her hand completely, her body sagging in relief that the little boy was safe.

Harrow and Farley were soon surrounding the young child and Charles jumped from the tree and back to the ground, pulling Kenelm into a hug before he kneeled down to berate him for what he'd done. Hermione, suddenly realising that she'd performed magic in a public setting, her eyes widened in alarm and she spun around quickly, her eyes darting about her surroundings in search of any who may have witnessed the incident. Seeing no Akela, Michel, Emerick and not a single other person in sight except for the four boys, she released a slow breath, before startling when she felt something collide with her, arms wrapping around her waist.

Looking down, she saw Kenelm's tear-filled eyes and she was quick to reach down and lift the child, settling him on her hip as he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck.

"It's okay, you're okay," she breathed out, doing her best to slow her heart rate and relax her muscles after the way they'd tensed up during the whole incident.

"You saved me," he cried.

"I did, but you have to be careful, Kenelm. You were far too high and if I weren't here, you would've gotten severely hurt, something that neither I nor your brother would've been able to fix."

"I won't do it again, I promise," he said.

"I know," she replied, rubbing comforting circles on his back with the hand that wasn't holding him to her. "I think we've had enough excitement for one day," she spoke, spying Charles who ran a hand through his hand, his breathing heavy and his cheeks had tinted pink from the effort of climbing the tree. "Come on, I'll make you dinner before I have to leave to meet with Prince Arthur," she said louder so the others would hear, too.

Hermione turned for the hut and slowly made her way towards it, Farley and Harrow falling into step beside her and Charles was a step behind her.

"I think you should teach me how to do what you just did," Harrow spoke, his eyes darting between his little brother who clung to her and her face.

"I have every intention of doing so," Hermione promised, her arm moving to hook around his shoulders and gently tugging him into her side.

~000~000~000~

After ensuring that Kenelm hadn't been injured and putting the finishing touches on their meal for the night, she double-checked the security wards as she did every night before she left the four boys to their devices.

Seeing that Akela and her guards had since returned, she explained her plans for the evening as she fastened her cloak around herself. Akela, deciding he didn't wish to go with her that evening, nudged at her hand for a pet before he turned and headed towards the castle whilst the guards escorted her to the city gates.

When Arthur and his horse came into view, a frown pulled at Hermione's brow at the sight of the usually composed Prince packing back and forth, his red cape billowing in the breeze and muttering to himself distractedly, the guards stood by the gates doing their best not to stare lest they be caught but that didn't stop them from sending quick glances in his direction. Hermione quietly released Michel and Emerick of their duties for the night and they bowed with a 'Your Highness' before they left her alone with Prince Arthur.

"Arthur?" Hermione questioned, a tone of concern in her voice.

He spun around to face her, his eyes widening and staring at her face.

"Is everything alright?"

"Fine," he said rather unconvincingly.

"I'm not sure I believe you, you looked quite unsettled."

He took a breath and his posture relaxed, a smile appearing on his face though Hermione noticed it didn't quite reach his eyes the way it usually did.

"All is well," he assured her. "It has been a tiring day and I attended a rather long meeting with the council which did not end with the outcome I'd wished for."

"They are against your ideas to better the city and people," she stated knowingly, her voice softening as she knew how much it agitated the young Prince that the council did not seem to care for the less fortunate citizens of Camelot.

"Their concern is not the people but the coin it will cost to better them. As soon as I have the opportunity and authority, they will be replaced with those that will care more for Camelot than they do wealth."

"I'm sorry you have had such a trying day, perhaps we should cancel this evening so you may take some time for yourself," she offered.

"The journey will give me the peace and quiet I need," he replied, holding his gloved hand out in offering.

Without thought, Hermione approached and raised her own hand to settle against his and he guided her towards his horse before helping her onto the saddle and he was quick to settle behind her, taking the reins and trapping her in his arms. For Hermione, this had become an occurring incident over the last few weeks and she no longer felt afraid or uncomfortable when being on the horse, though she knew that would likely change if she were to be by herself.

"Where are we going this evening?" She asked, noting that they appeared to be heading out of the city and into the woods rather than towards the stream.

"For a change of scenery," he replied, kicking his horse and they took off at a gentle walk, leaving the city behind and stepping into the soon to be dark woods.

Arthur was unusually quiet during their journey but after what he'd said about his meeting with the council, she decided to remain silent and not disturb him as he appeared to be distracted by what had been said during the meeting and she didn't envy the Prince for having to attend a meeting with such people. She could imagine the trouble she'd get herself into if she were present during such meetings.

"How has your day fared?"

Hermione startled at the sudden sound of his voice and she gave her head a light shake. "I had but a handful of patients, so I was able to take the time to have a reading and writing lesson with Farley and Kenelm, I spoke with Gwen and had a visit from Merlin but otherwise it has been quiet, more so than I am used to."

"You have attended to the people and now I suspect you will only see those that are in true need of treatment."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, in a few weeks I will be stepping down and handing over the reins to Charles so he may run the practice. I will be nearby should he need me and once I'm certain he is settled and comfortable, I'll give him the seal of approval and he'll be a fully trained physician, in which, he may decide what he wishes to do regarding his future, though I have the suspicion he will wish to stay in the lower city, it is all he knows and it is his home."

"And what do you plan to do after that?"

"Well, once the orphanage has been built, I will do what I can to help with the transition of staff and children into the building and getting them settled, and then I shall find myself another project to take on. Perhaps look into ways of teaching the people crafts they may earn a living from. The city can never have too many farmers, fisherman or blacksmiths."

"That sounds as though you plan to stay in Camelot," he commented.

"You said you wished for Camelot to be a home to me."

"I did and I meant every word I said. Camelot will always be happy to have you."

They fell silent and Hermione noted that they'd taken a turning in the woods she'd never travelled down before and she was wondering where Arthur was taking them but she knew from experience he would remain tight-lipped until they reached their destination.

"You often state that your Kingdom celebrates and welcomes magic..."

Hermione blinked in surprise at the unexpected comment and she twisted to look up at him over her shoulder, seeing that he had a slight crease in his brow and a thoughtful expression on his face.

"And I know your opinion on the use of magic..."

"What do wish to ask, Arthur?" She questioned, seeing that he seemed to be struggling to find the words to articulate what he wished to say.

"What can you tell me about magic that I don't already know? I have witnessed magic being used for only evil purposes. I have witnessed curses, killings, dark creatures, I have been a victim of a love spell and had I not been broken free I would now be married to a woman I do not love. You say magic is used for good. How?"

She nibbled at her lip thoughtfully. She had to choose her words carefully; anything she may say to him could be what sways his opinions and belief on magic. It could change the laws of Camelot when Arthur is King.

"I have witnessed evil magic, too, and I have been a victim of it several times," she spoke, his eyes widening slightly and a hardened, protective look crossing his face. "I know the difference between the two as I have witnessed and experienced both, you have not, so it is understandable why you may be biased. Hogwarts has a zero-tolerance policy regarding the use of magic for malicious or nefarious purposes. If it was not for the heroic efforts of our magic users, we would not have survived or won the war against our enemies," she said truthfully. "They risked their lives for the people of their Kingdom and many of them died, many of them I knew. What you don't understand, Arthur, is that some people don't have a choice and it is not their fault."

"Meaning?" He prompted.

"Some cannot help having magic, some are actually _born_ with it."

His eyes widened in surprise and he opened his mouth to respond but couldn't find the words.

"Hogwarts is different as not only do we welcome and celebrate magic, but everyone that attends the magic school is a child that was born with their magic. The school does not teach the magic of the Old Religion, they teach a form of magic that is entirely different. They do not condone half of the practices that would be associated with the Old Religion, particularly magic that involves human sacrifice or blood. Only those that are born with magic can practice it, but any human may turn to the Old Religion and use its power, but I know that some sorcerers and sorceresses are born with their magic, too, but it is highly uncommon. Those that are born with their magic are known as wizards and witches. The magic that is taught and practised at Hogwarts is paving the way for the future and soon, I believe we will no longer see the magic of the Old Religion. When I say they have no choice in the matter, I mean it. If a child that is born with magic does not learn to control it, if they are not taught how to practice and perfect their craft, it can be dangerous for both the child and others. Hogwarts is not accustomed to the magic of the Old Religion, unlike Camelot. You have not witnessed what good magic is capable of and I know that is why you may hold the beliefs that you do. I promise, Arthur, magic is wonderful and life-changing and _good_. It is needed in the world, without it, we would not be able to appreciate the differences and beauty, we would struggle to do the things magic can do easily. I have witnessed magical healing and it is truly incredible, Arthur. Imagine, if Camelot or the Knights had access to such advances in healing how much simpler it would be. There may be fewer casualties that succumb to death due to their injuries to being seen to or healed quickly enough. Recovery periods would improve, illnesses would decline, and complications with childbirth would be easier to manage. Remember, Arthur, magic is not evil; it is a tool that can be used for both good and bad."

"I one day hope that I am given the opportunity to witness such magic," he said, giving her a look she didn't quite understand but she still smiled.

"I am sure that you will and I swear, it will change your outlook on life and leave you speechless. Magic is wonderful, it is a gift from the Gods and one that should be celebrated, not punished."

Whilst Hermione thought his sudden questions were a little odd, if she were honest, she'd been expecting them at some point since her arrival. Arthur had shown curiosity in the past and after their discussion about magic back in Ealdor and with him soon to be King, he would need all of the facts before he could make a decision on whether to keep the laws of his father or to abolish them and allow magic to return to Camelot, something Hermione truly wished to see. Camelot would thrive and be better protected if she and Merlin no longer had to hide their magic, if the people no longer had to live in fear or turn to using magic for nefarious purposes, survival or revenge. Camelot truly would be great.

With the answers she'd given, she hoped it was enough to sway Arthur in the right direction and she hoped that he would continue to show an interest so she may better educate him on the true purpose and capabilities of magic.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 17

"Take the reins, Hermione."

"I can't," she shook her head, the fallen curls surrounding her face bouncing with the movement.

Arthur chuckled softly. "Of course, you can. Take the reins, I am with you, you will be safe."

"I'm worried, Arthur," Hermione admitted quietly.

"Hermione, do you truly believe I would allow any harm to come to you?" He questioned, his voice softening.

Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment. "No," she breathed out, and meaning it, believing it, knowing it was true. Since meeting her he seemed to have gone out of his way to ensure her safety and well-being.

"Then believe me when I say, I know you can do this and I shan't let anything happen to you. I am right here with you, Llameri is exceptionally trained and you have earned her trust just as I have."

"I'm sorry?" She blinked, looking up at him over her shoulder. "What did you say her name was?"

"Llameri?" He frowned slightly, looking down and into her chocolate orbs. "Why are you so surprised by that?"

She shook her head once before replying, "It's not the name itself, rather that it's the first time I have heard you refer to her as such, and I've ridden with the both of you many times since our meeting."

The crease in his brow dropped before he gave a single nod. "I apologise, I had thought I'd previously introduced you. Well, it is better late than never. Llameri," he called, the large head of the horse turning as if to look over her shoulder at him. "Llameri, this is Princess Hermione, Hermione, this is Llameri."

The beautiful mare tilted her head before pressing her muzzle to the side of Hermione's fabric-covered leg for a moment. A smile tugged at Hermione's mouth and she silently and slowly reached out, her hand splaying against Llameri's forehead. She pressed herself against her hand a little harder and Hermione spared a glance over her shoulder to see Arthur watching the exchange with a proud smile. She pulled her hand back when Llameri faced forward once more and Hermione took a breath, steeling her nerves.

"She trusts you, she is exceptionally trained and she was gifted to me by my father on my tenth birthday. She knows what to do, just take the reins and she will guide you. But remember to not tug too hard or you may upset her. I know you can do this."

Arthur held the reins up in offering and hesitantly she raised her own hands, wrapping her fingers around them and Arthur released his hold, silently settling his gloved hands against her waist over the fabric of her cloak. If it were anyone else, it would likely be considered inappropriate as they were neither married nor engaged, but she spent a great amount of time with Arthur and she was used to such touches from him, and as it was, he only seemed to touch her so when they were either alone or in the confinement of the castle walls where there were few witnesses.

"When you're ready, lightly tap your feet against her and we'll continue with our journey."

Holding her breath, Hermione did as instructed and she didn't release it until Llameri set off at a gentle walk, trekking through the woods. She wasn't entirely sure where Arthur planned on taking her that evening but she knew she wouldn't be disappointed. Over the weeks he'd shown her parts of the woods she'd never before seen or known existed, whether it be a cluster of trees older than Camelot itself, dark caves they'd explored or a beautiful stream filled with fish.

"What do you plan on showing me this evening?" She asked curiously, her eyes darting between the reins in her hands and the path before her.

"That, Princess, is a surprise and one I'm sure you'll enjoy," he responded. She scowled at him over her shoulder before facing forward once more when he laughed at her annoyance. "Tell me, what is the greatest magical act you have witnessed?"

Hermione's mouth tugged into a smile. It'd been three weeks since Kenelm had fallen from the tree, her magic instinctively saving him and Arthur's questions, and ever since, Arthur's interest in the magic of Hogwarts had grown. She couldn't exactly be sure why, she just hoped he'd taken her words to heart and he wished to know more before he could make his decision on what to do when he was crowned King.

"In what way? Are you wishing to know of the purest magical act I've witnessed? The one I personally think to be the most wonderful? The one to be the darkest and cruellest? Or the one to be the most powerful?"

"I hadn't expected you to give me so many options," he chuckled. "I would appreciate an answer for each."

"Very well," she pursed her lips in thought, her forehead creasing. "I've been surrounded by magic since I was a young child," she started, which wasn't entirely a lie; she just hadn't known what to call the strange occurrences at the time. "And there have been many occasions I've been exposed to both the best and worst of magic, but the fondest memory I have for the purest of magics is not that magic itself, rather, it's the response. I remember the joyous laughter of children, the belief they had in magic. The one to be the most wonderful, the castle at Hogwarts, the banquet hall was truly beautiful and not for the tapestries and colours of the Kings and Queens, not for the expertly crafted furnishings and the silver utensils, plates and goblets, it was the ceiling."

"The ceiling was magically charmed to mimic the sky outside. I only had the chance to see it once," she lied, not wanting Arthur to question her as he believed her to not have grown up in a castle. "During the war, the Final Battle that ended it all, I found myself in the banquet hall and despite the war taking place, the fighting, the casualties and the frightened children, the ceiling of the banquet hall held a perfectly calm night sky, beautifully speckled with bright stars. It was a sharp contrast against the chaos and horror happening outside of those doors."

"I hope to one day witness such magic," he said softly, breaking Hermione from her daydream.

"Someday, you just might," she responded.

"I've yet to hear your answers for the worst and most powerful magic."

"Yes, of course," she nodded, absentmindedly releasing the reins with her right hand as she pushed her fallen hair out of her face and behind her ears, missing Arthur's smile as she did so without any worry or fear. "Again, this is not the most powerful magic I've witnessed, as there's been a few, rather is it the power behind the response, the message. During the Final Battle, a great woman, a witch I knew, she used her magic to bring to life the stone statues of warriors that could be found in the castle. It was a turning point for us. That one simple act gave us a little bit of hope that maybe we could win. We were outnumbered, by men, magic and magical creatures, but we had hope because it was almost as if Hogwarts was fighting for itself, fighting to protect its Kingdom and people."

"A battle that was worthy of a win, I'm sure."

"Our enemies were anything but honourable, they used awful means in which to beat us and we refused to be like them. We chose to be better even if it meant we lost. We kept our honour and sacrificed everything. We held onto our courage, loyalty and belief even in the darkest of times. Our enemies were captured and imprisoned, not executed. Enough people had died, it did not matter if they were innocent or not."

"Your Kingdom must be filled with many a Knight," he commented.

"Yes, yes it was," she agreed, thinking of Neville's courage, Snape's loyalty, McGonagall's belief in her students, and the sacrifices made by those that died and fought. "Unfortunately, many of them died that day, too." She cleared her throat as sadness threatened to creep in. "As for the worst of magic, I've seen it turn people, family and friends against one another, I've seen it turn people into power-hungry dictators, into a shell of what they once were. But I've also seen it make them better, stronger, kinder, wiser."

"I wish I could understand, I wish I could share your experiences..."

"But you can't," Hermione nodded, "And that is not your fault, Arthur. One day, maybe you will, _hopefully_ , you will."

"Take the next left," Arthur instructed, his left hand falling from her waist and coming up to her left hand, resting over the top and showing her how much force to use to tug on the reins in order to get the horse to follow direction before it returned to her waist.

"And you are adamant you won't tell me where we're going?"

"Yes," he chuckled at her huff of annoyance, both directed at him and her hair when she blew a curl back from her face only for it to place back into place. "What is one of your fondest childhood memories?"

"I've several when I was a young child but once the war began, they were few and far in-between. But there is one incident that stands out to me. When I met Harry and Ronald, at first, we didn't much get along."

"I thought you said they were your friends, like your brothers?" He frowned in confusion.

"I did say that, but when we met we were eleven-years-old and it was a different story. It wasn't so much as Harry, it was Ronald and Harry had never really had friends before and when he found a friendship in Ronald, he didn't want to jeopardise it. Ronald used to make fun of me as I liked to read and I was smarter than most of the other children in my village. I tried to help him with his reading once and he got mad and said horrid things about me and I ran off, hid away and cried. That same night, my village was attacked by a wild creature and it stumbled upon me, I would've died had they not found me and helped me fight it off, and it was that night that we became best friends."

"You fought off a wild creature at the age of eleven?" He questioned and she glanced over her shoulder to his surprised, impressed, horrified and disbelieving expression.

She laughed, the sound carrying in the breeze. "Yes, but I did not do it alone. If I'm honest, they did most of it, I was injured, you see? But over the years, I had my fair share of moments saving their lives. So, Prince Arthur, what is _your_ fondest memory as a child?"

"I remember when I was a boy, there was a time when I was confined to my chambers due to illness. Not only did I not have the strength to leave my bed, there was cause for concern that others might contract the illness, too. I remember Gaius feeding me my medicines and the handmaidens my meals. My father didn't visit me and as a young boy, I used to think that meant he didn't love me. Until one night I was feeling better and I woke. The moon was in the sky and a single candle was lit, my father sat beside my bed reading aloud from a book. When he noticed I was awake, he didn't speak or acknowledge his presence, he simply held my gaze and returned to reading the book aloud. When I woke for the second time, he was gone. I had thought I'd dreamt it but the same book was on the nightstand. My father had always been distant with his emotions and interactions, I've often been told I look most like my mother and my father would be reminded of her when he looked at me, but in that moment I knew, I knew he truly _did_ love me. That was the first and only time he read to me."

Hermione didn't respond with words but she did tilt her head back until it pressed against his shoulder and she felt the pressure of a squeeze on her waist.

"If you hadn't been born a Prince or a nobleman, where do you think your talent would lie? How would you provide for yourself?" She asked curiously.

"A Knight is _who_ I am, a Prince is _what_ I am."

"I'm not disputing that, I know very well you are a remarkable swordsman and Knight, but I wish to know how you would survive if you weren't."

"I enjoy hunting and I'm rather good at it," he started, "When Merlin, the blundering idiot, doesn't scare everything away, that is," he added in a mutter and she bit her lip as she imagined if she were to look at him, he would be pouting. "I imagine I would earn my wage by providing and selling meat. I try to hunt once every couple of weeks depending on my schedule."

"What do you hunt?"

"Most game, but I have caught a deer once or twice."

"When I was in Ealdor, the most I could find was a rabbit, so I had to make do with that."

"You can hunt?" He questioned in surprise.

She looked at him over her shoulder. "Why so surprised, Arthur?" She smiled teasingly. "Because I am a woman, a _Princess_ , I cannot be a proficient hunter?"

"No, no, of course not," he replied. "Sometimes I forget you were not raised in the traditional Royal manner, or that you are not like other Princesses."

"Thank you," she nodded, taking his words as a compliment. "If I am honest, I don't so much as enjoy the hunt, the killing of innocent animals, rather, it's the silence, the time alone. And as much as I dislike harming the animals, I know it is a must for survival."

He tipped his head. "What is your weapon of choice?"

"A dagger, I've quite good aim, if I do say so myself. You?"

"Crossbow, mostly, it's quick, efficient and less messy."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "I haven't been hunting for a long while, since I left Ealdor. Akela is able to hunt his own food and not only am I fed at the castle but should I require food, I may purchase is from the market place. I've no need for it."

She could see him open his mouth in a motion to speak, only he never had the chance. She wasn't quite sure what happened but one moment it was silent and she was holding the reins and the next, Arthur's hands had taken them from her lightning-fast and his arms caged her against him as Llameri released a distressed, high pitched neigh and she reared up, Hermione sliding back in Arthur's chest and a gasp falling from her.

Arthur tugged on the reins and called out instructions to calm her, but it didn't work, and when she reared up again, a little higher than last time, Hermione found herself tipping backwards and landing on the ground with a dull thud and a pained groaned as she hit her shoulder on a small rock. She heard Arthur's pained groan from beside her but he was before her within moments, a worried expression on his face and a steady trickle of blood dribbling from his right temple where a cut lay.

"I'm fine," she shook her head, pushing herself up into a sitting position. "See to Llameri, she needs you more than I do," she said, drawing attention to the still neighing horse as she hit her hooves against the ground and paced. He made as if to argue with her but she shook her head and folded her arms. "She's clearly distressed, so see to her."

Sighing in defeat, he rose from his crouch and quickly but carefully crossed to the distressed horse, Hermione observing as it took him several minutes to calm her. Once she'd quieted and calmed, Hermione rose to her feet and crossed over to them, stopping beside Arthur as he muttered to the mare and stroke the side of her neck.

"What happened?"

"I'm not entirely sure," he admitted, pulling back from Llameri to give her his attention. "Something must have startled her, but I did not see or hear anything."

Hermione frowned. "Neither did I," she replied. "Did something frighten you?" Hermione muttered.

Llameri released a puff of breath and an almost purring sound before tilting her head forward and resting it against Hermione's shoulder, her cheek pressed to the side of her head and Hermione brought her hand up, pressing it against the other side of Llameri's head.

"Did you hear something we didn't?" She asked. Llameri's response was a repeat of the one before. "I'm sure it's gone now," Hermione said quietly before taking a step back from the horse and turning towards Arthur, seeing the smile on his face.

"What?"

Arthur shook his head, refusing to answer. "Are you well, injured?" He questioned, his eyes giving her the once over.

"I am perfectly fine," she nodded. "You, however, must've cut yourself on the landing," she said, closing the distance between them and without a word, she used the edge of her cloak to gently wipe away the blood. "It's only small, it already appears to have stopped bleeding," she informed him, lowering her arm and moving to step back but his hand gently grasped her own and his eyes bore down in hers.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Arthur?"

He never got to reply as a terrifying squawk echoed through the silent woods, starting her, Arthur and Llameri. Once Arthur sprung into action, securing her to a tree and pulling Hermione away from her lest she accidentally get injured, he pulled his sword and stood before her, shielding her with his body and his eyes slowly scanned his surroundings.

A second louder squawk sounded, this one being closer. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't a regular bird. The seconds ticked by and Hermione clenched her hands into fists to prevent her from pulling her wand or attempting any wandless magic which she channelled through her hands, she set her jaw and clenched her teeth and her eyes took in every inch before her, blocking out Llameri's distressed calls as she focused.

A third squawk broke free and the ground being disturbed grew louder until a blur of white appeared towards their far-right, Arthur repositioning himself not only to shield Hermione but in preparation to strike.

As the creature neared and Hermione squinted her eyes to better see in the darkening woods, her eyes widened in surprise before her hand shot out, resting on Arthur's arm.

"Arthur, don't," she whispered, her eyes not on him but on the creature before them.

"Hermione, I won't let it..."

"No, Arthur, don't," she repeated, trying to push his arm down but he was holding strong. "I know what it is."

Stood across from them was the brilliant white body and the black and white speckled wings of a hippogriff. From the size, she'd estimate it to either be female or quite young, but unless she got closer, she couldn't be sure. It had the large and steel-coloured beak, the talons on the front legs and the bright, beady orange eyes they were known for. She'd forgotten how beautiful they were, the last time she'd seen one being Buckbeak years ago.

"It's not dangerous," she lied, somewhat at least. As long as they respected it, it wouldn't attack them. "I promise, if we don't harm her, she won't harm us."

"How do you know it's female?" He questioned, his eyes glued to the creature who seemed to be eyeing them wearily, just as he were it.

"I can't be sure, it's either female or young, but if it were young, it should be with its herd, they don't travel alone unless she was separated from them and got lost. But the most likely answer is she's female. Females are the gentler of the species."

" _What_ is it? It looks to be half horse, half..."

"Half horse, half eagle," she finished. "Yes, she's a hippogriff, a magical creature."

Due to their close proximity, she felt him stiffen.

"She won't harm us," she reminded him. "You trusted me with Akela, trust me with her."

"You _knew_ Akela, he was your pet. This is a wild magical creature."

"Was Akela not wild before we met?" She questioned. "Trust me. I have ever let you down?"

"No," he responded.

"Then trust me now, lower your sword. If she perceives you a threat, she will target you, me, Llameri, any who may be nearby."

Reluctantly, he slowly lowered his sword but kept his eyes on the hippogriff.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Hermione breathed out.

"No,"

Hermione's eyes widened when the hippogriff released a squawk, took a step forward and flapped her massive wings in warning.

"Arthur," she hissed, barely restraining herself from slapping him upside the head for both his comment and raising his sword again. "Do not insult her, hippogriffs are highly prideful creatures. If you disrespect them, they will attack. If you threaten them, they will attack. Do you understand me?" He barely nodded. "Now, isn't she beautiful?"

"I've seen..."

Another squawk sounded and she took another step forward, closing the distance between them once more.

Hermione sent Arthur a glare.

"Yes, she's beautiful," he replied, his arm shooting out and prevent Hermione from moving towards it when she stepped from behind him. "Don't," he warned, he pleaded.

"Do you want to stay here until we die? One of us has to take the first step in showing respect, and it won't be her and it won't be you. It _has_ to be me."

"How do you know so much about this creature?" He asked, watching as the hippogriff pecked at the ground with her beak.

"We have them in Hogwarts; I never thought I'd see one this far away from the Forbidden Forest."

"Forbidden Forest?"

"I'll explain later, but right now, I have to do this. Don't interrupt me and don't speak, and everything will be fine."

She stepped around him, feeling him hovering behind her before he stopped himself from following. Hermione took slow, measured steps and immediately stopped when the hippogriff released a squawk.

"You truly are beautiful, one of the most beautiful I've ever seen," Hermione complimented before she averted her gaze, lifted both her cloak and skirts of her dress and then curtsied as low as she could without falling over. She held her position until her legs shook and she held her breath when she heard it approaching and the metal of Arthur's sword. "Arthur," she said quietly as to not startle the creature but loud enough he would hear. "Come stand beside me and bow to her, as low as you possibly can. You must show respect or she'll kill me before you have the change to raise your sword to her."

"Hermione..."

"Arthur, trust me, _please_ ," she pleaded.

She wasn't sure what to expect but when she heard his slow footsteps and felt his presence, she turned her head slightly, catching his gaze when he bowed. Silently, she reached out and grasped his gloved hand in hers, squeezing it.

"Stay in position, don't move, don't speak," she said quietly. "Trust me, you'll see."

The hippogriff closed the distance and Hermione squeezed her eyes shut when she felt the breath on the back of her neck as the hippogriff stood over her and she gripped Arthur's hand tighter when he stiffened as she turned her attention to him.

Hermione released a slow breath when she backed off and she lifted her head slightly, seeing the hippogriff slowly lowering her front half towards the ground.

"Arthur, look,"

The Prince lifted his head, a frown pulling at his handsome face. "Is it... Bowing?"

"Yes, _she_ is bowing." When the hippogriff returned to full height, Hermione tugged on Arthur's hand and did the same, her legs killing her after the long moments of holding the curtsey. "We've earned her respect, she won't harm us. Even Llameri's calmed."

Arthur looked towards his horse to see she was right and then his eyes darted back to the hippogriff, seeing it watching them.

"Now what?"

Hermione released his hand and slowly approached, stopping before the hippogriff and she didn't raise her hand until she lowered her head to her. Running her hand through the soft feathers on her head, Hermione looked behind her to see Arthur's wide eyes and his sword still held in his hand. She supposed he'd never seen someone get so close to a magical creature without being injured. This experience, no matter how unplanned it had been and how unexpected it was, might help to sway his decision. Magic was not evil.

"Arthur, you'll offend her if you don't approach," she said, holding her other hand out to him as she continued to pet the creature before her.

Hesitantly, he approached and took her hand and Hermione brought it to rest beside her hand.

"It is a lot softer than I was expecting," he commented, his fingers carding through the white feathers.

"She has feathers, what were you expecting, wooden spikes?" She snorted and his eyes darted to her, amusement shining through at her unladylike action and she saw his body relax. Even from the corner of her eye, she saw the bowed head of the hippogriff watching the movement of Arthur hesitantly sheathing his sword, both of his hands carding through the soft feathers until he reached the glossy coat of her back.

"It seems I was neither right nor wrong."

"Meaning?" He asked, his eyes flickering up to hers, his ease returning.

"Well, she is both female _and_ young."

"How do you know?"

"She's moulting," she nodded to some of the feathers on the ground at their feet. "She's still losing her baby feathers and females have a white spot on their noses," she pointed to it with her finger. "Besides, look at her underbelly."

He frowned before bending his body and tipping his head.

"Oh," he said in realisation and Hermione laughed at him.

When the hippogriff shook out her wings, Arthur startled and jumped backwards, almost pulling his sword before he stopped himself, his eyes darting to Hermione's paling face and then to the once more bowing hippogriff, only this time he noticed it was lower than before.

"Hermione? What is she doing?"

Hermione cleared her throat and shook her head. "You are truly one of the most magnificent creatures I have ever seen," Hermione complimented, the beady orange eyes watching her. "But I cannot accept your invitation." The hippogriff squawked and stood upright. "I mean no offense," she stared, holding her arm out towards Arthur, preventing him from moving closer or reaching for his sword. "But you see, I'm quite terrified of heights, and not only that, I worry that you cannot carry my weight." She squawked again and flapped her wings indignantly. "I am not saying you are not strong, just that you are still young and I do not wish to harm you. And it is also getting late, if Arthur and I do not return home soon, there are people that will worry." The hippogriff lowered her head as if dejected. "Possibly another time, when you're a little bigger? You should go, find your herd. It's not safe for you here and stay low, if you are spotted, you will be killed. There are too many humans to fend against by yourself."

She slowly backed up with Arthur by her side, his eyes widening slightly when the hippogriff partially bowed and then flapped her massive wings, disturbing the dirt and foliage beneath her as she took flight through a gap in the trees and into the night sky.

"She can fly?" He breathed out in surprise.

"She does have wings, Arthur," Hermione teased.

When the hippogriff was gone from view, his eyes fell to her and a laugh fell from his lips before he shook his head.

"I fear that in the morning I will wake and this would all have been a dream."

"Believe me, Arthur, this was very much real. Not all magic is evil, not all creatures are evil."

"What did she want from you?"

Hermione grimaced and shivered. "Remember when I told you we don't ride horses at Hogwarts, and I said you wouldn't believe me if I told you what we used for transportation instead?"

"Yes," he frowned.

"Well..." She trailed off sheepishly.

His eyes widened comically, darting between her and the dark sky above. "Are... Are you saying your people fly on a half horse, half eagle creature?"

"Yes," she squeaked, offering him a guilty smile when he blinked, dumbfounded by the news.

"We don't have horses, surprisingly, given their biology, they are not particularly fond of horses, and vice versa, which is why Llameri was quite distressed." Arthur didn't respond, he continued to blink. "Oh no, I've broken the Prince," she whispered. "Arthur!" She called, closing the space between them and it wasn't until she held her hand to his cheek that he seemed to come back to himself and she dropped her hand, his head moving as if to keep contact.

"This is a lot of information," he shook his head. "And she bowed because she wanted you to..." He trailed off, his eyes widening once more.

"Yes, she wanted to take me for a fly, but I truly am terrified of heights and she was too young to fly _and_ support my weight without hurting her."

"Have you done this before?"

"Once or twice," she admitted sheepishly. "It's why I'm not so fond of heights. I hate flying."

He stared, then blinked, then stared, then a snort escaped and they were suddenly laughing.

"It has been a strange evening," he commented once they'd calmed.

"It has," she agreed. "And we better return to the castle. I am sorry we did not reach our destination."

Arthur smiled. "This experience outshone what I'd planned to show you, and we can always return another day."

After preparing for their leave, they both mounted the horse and Arthur took the reins for the entire journey, subjecting Hermione to one of the most rigorous Q&A sessions she'd ever experienced, especially regarding hippogriffs. Hagrid would be proud.

When they returned to the castle, they both dismounted Llameri and she was tended to as they approached the steps. When the entrance doors opened and King Uther stood before them, they both showed their respect with a bow and curtsey, sharing a secret smile and being subjected to an arched eyebrow from the King.

"Did you have a lovely evening, Hermione?"

"I did, thank you, Your Grace. It was certainly unexpected. And yourself?"

"I am pleased to hear that, my evening has been pleasantly quiet. It must have been exciting, Arthur, what happened to your head?"

Arthur reached up with his hand, pressing his fingers to the dried cut on his temple; he'd forgotten it was there.

"We had a slight mishap, Father," he answered. The King raised a silent, questioning eyebrow. "Llameri was unexpectedly and suddenly startled during our travels, we took a fall."

His eyes snapped to Hermione. "Are you well, Princess? Perhaps you should visit with Gaius."

"I am uninjured, Your Grace, there is no need to worry. It was only a slight tumble and it was quite an experience," she responded, once more sharing a smile with Arthur and they both stifled a laugh, Arthur biting the inside of his cheek and Hermione her lip.

The King, surprisingly, looked the most amused than she'd ever seen him.

"Very well, clean up, the both of you. You arrived in time for dinner to be served. Will you be joining us?"

"Yes, Father, the tumble took a little longer to comprehend than expected and we never reached our intended destination before returning."

Hermione bit her lip harder.

"Hmm," he hummed, his eyes darting between them. "You don't have long, dinner is to be served soon."

They both tipped their heads and continued up the steps and into the castle, laughter breaking free as they rounded the corner, it echoing and carrying over to the King.

~000~000~000~

"Merlin!"

The manservant startled and turned around, quickly hurrying over to the King after he'd been following after Arthur.

"Your Grace," he bowed.

"What do you think happened on their journey?"

Merlin blinked in surprise. "I cannot be sure, Your Grace. Would you like me to speak with the Prince?"

He thought for a moment before shaking his head. "No, let them have their shared secrets. What do you know of Arthur's plan?"

"Your Grace, it is Arthur's wish and intention to marry the Princess."

"And what of her character? Do you believe she is well suited to Arthur?"

Merlin almost swallowed his tongue. The _King_ was asking him, a _manservant_ , for his opinion on a Royal marriage prospect? Had someone spiked his tea? Was the world ending?

"It what context, might I ask?"

"As a Queen and Wife," he answered, narrowing his eyes slightly. "You are close to the Princess, are you not?"

Merlin shifted on his feet nervously and barely stopped himself from tugging on his clothing. "Princess Hermione and I care about the same people, Your Grace. I have witnessed her strength, her kindness, her courage, her selflessness, her determination. I believe she will make a wonderful Queen; she is smart, she is well-liked by the town's people, particularly those in the lower city and they outnumber the nobles greatly. They are who she will need the support of and she has it. I am sure you are aware of all that she has done for the people of Camelot, and they are not _her_ people. She will defend this Kingdom to her last dying breath and she will love everyone in it.

"As for a wife; she is loving, patient and understanding. I have witnessed her interactions with the children of the city and the children in Ealdor and I know she will someday make a wonderful mother. I am unsure if you are aware but the Princess has taken a boy of fifteen under her wing. Before he met Hermione, he was a homeless and poor orphan with three younger brothers to care for and feed. But since meeting Princess Hermione, she has made him her apprentice, she has ensured his family's safety and future and she is teaching the younger children to read and write in her free time. The youngest boy is but five, and he adores the Princess, and I know she adores each and every one of them, as if they were her children, her responsibility."

"She has made them her wards?" He questioned in surprise.

"Not officially, Your Grace, but every citizen in the city know those boys are under her protection. So, yes, Your Grace, I believe the Princess is the perfect Queen for Camelot and the perfect wife for the Prince."

"You seem to know her better than most," he observed. "Do you believe she will grow to love Arthur?"

"No, Your Grace, I believe she _is_ in love with the Prince."

"And you base your assumptions on?" He probed.

"I am a servant, close to both the Prince and Princess, I see everything others do not. And I see that Princess Hermione loves Prince Arthur, and if her hand was ever forced, I believe she would die for him, and she would destroy anyone who dared to threaten his life. Your Grace, you know of her past just as I. She is not just a Princess, she is a warrior."

The King appeared thoughtful. "I don't believe I have ever seen Arthur as happy as he is now," he mused. Merlin tipped his head in agreement. "Thank you, Merlin. That is all, you may go."

"Your Grace," he bowed, before turning on his heel and leaving down the corridor.

~000~000~000~

"Hermione, you can run but you can't hide!" Arthur called.

Hermione pressed her hand against her mouth, stifling her laughter lest she gives her hiding spot away.

Two weeks after the hippogriff encounter found Hermione and Arthur in the woods outside of the city walls and they'd been out all morning. It was usual for them to not go on their little trips until early evening, but Arthur had proposed the idea of spending an entire day exploring and trekking through the woods, and with Charles stepping up in his duties (not that he knew that yet) and Arthur forgoing his training for the day, Hermione hadn't been able to resist and had happily accepted.

Being around Arthur was very freeing, she'd come to realise. She felt comfortable, safe and at ease around him in a way she didn't with anyone else, even Merlin, which she thought ridiculous. Merlin was her best friend, her secret keeper, and Arthur, he was... More. With Arthur, she had no worries and no fears. The darker memories of her past stayed at bay and she only remembered the fun and the good times. With Arthur, she felt like a child again. She felt giddy and happy and all she could do was laugh and smile and relax. And be free.

No matter how silly or childish it might've seemed if someone were to catch them, neither of them cared and after eating breakfast and packing as much food and water as they could into the saddlebags, they left the safety and confines of the city, just herself, Arthur, Llameri and Akela -who refused to leave her for an entire day spent outside the city walls- and they travelled to the stream, Akela disappearing to hunt and Llameri soaking up the sun on the unnaturally warm day, whilst she and Arthur were playing hide and seek.

She only wished she'd chosen a darker dress that day to help her better blend into her surroundings. She wore a cheery yellow dress that wasn't quite a physician duties garment but neither was it something she'd wear to dinner with the King, it is in-between and she didn't mind it getting dirty or ruined. It complimented her pale skin and her dark eyes and wild hair, and once she'd woken and seen the beautifully sunny day that awaited her and knowing her plans for the day, she hadn't been able to resist dressing in such a bright, happy colour. Of course, it hadn't entirely been for her, she may have flushed red when Arthur greeted her outside her chambers, complimented her and kissed the back of her hand.

Hermione had discarded her cloak by the stream, it being too heavy and warm for the weather and Arthur had lost his cape and sword, leaving him in just his dark boots and breeches and the dark blue shirt that made his already beautiful eyes pop.

"Found you."

Hermione released a shriek of surprise and spun around, her heart racing a mile a minute as she came face to face with a laughing Prince Arthur.

"Gods, you scared the life out of me," she breathed out, her hand pressed to her chest lest her heart break free of her ribcage but she was soon laughing, too.

"It's your turn to count," he told her.

"I know, I'll count to ten."

"One hundred," he argued.

"One hundred!" She cried, lowering her water skin after she was mid-way from lifting it to her mouth. "One hundred! Llameri, are you hearing this? He wants me to count to one hundred," she said, looking to the horse that was laid by the stream, enjoying the sunshine. The horse released a snort-like sound before turning to look at Arthur.

"What?" He asked the horse.

The puff of air that she released and the way she looked away from him had Hermione believing that was the equivalent to a horse rolling its eyes and the thought had her stifling a laugh.

"I am _not_ counting to one hundred. Not only is it cheating as you only counted to ten, but I'll fall asleep before I finish," she argued.

He snorted. "Very well, ninety,"

She scoffed. "Fifteen," she countered.

"Eighty,"

"Twenty,"

"Seventy-five," he folded his arms over his chest.

"Twenty-five," she folded her arms and narrowed her eyes.

"Seventy,"

"Twenty,"

"That's lower than before," he pointed out.

"I know it is," she replied.

He narrowed his eyes. "Sixty, there, I've almost halved my original offer."

"Five, oh look at that, I _have_ halved my original offer," she smiled innocently.

He scowled at her. "Fine, twenty-five."

"Ten, take it or leave it."

He grumbled before taking her hand and shaking on it. She'd gotten exactly what she'd wanted.

"You should be on the council," he said amused.

"Please," she pffted. "They'd cry after being stuck in a room with me."

"I know, they'd renounce their responsibilities and then I wouldn't have to forcibly replace them," he cheeked.

She scoffed and she smacked him on the arm. "Charming. If you don't leave now, I'll find you," she said, taking a quick drink from her water-skin and then dropping it to the ground with the rest of their belongings and then she covered her eyes with her hands. "One, two..." She heard his footsteps as he ran for cover. "Eight, nine, ten! Ready or not, here I come!" She called so he'd hear no matter where he was.

"If Akela returns, you're in charge," she pointed her finger to the horse who released another snort-like sound before Hermione turned and ran through the woods in search of Arthur, not travelling too far from the stream as she knew he wouldn't jeopardise their safety.

After a long while of searching and having yet to find him, she was growing frustrated and sulkily made her way back to the stream, retracing her steps easily enough as they'd visited it many times in the past. Once she arrived, she headed towards the right, only she couldn't find him, so she returned to the stream and headed for the left. She still couldn't find him and she grew suspicious of him changing hiding positions to avoid being found, it wouldn't be the first time he'd cheated during one of their games.

Not paying attention to where she was going in her sulk, she tripped over a tree root and fell headfirst barely catching herself on her hands.

"Now, I'm annoyed," she muttered to herself.

As she pushed herself up onto her knees, wiped her hands and then climbed to her feet, she dusted off her dress and sighed as she continued towards the stream, only for a hand to dart out and wrap around her wrist, tugging her behind a tree and against a chest, a second hand clamping around her mouth and an arm around her body pinning her in place.

It was clear the body behind her was a man, but the chest pressed against her back didn't feel right. The smell was of sweat and bad hygiene; he likely hadn't had a proper bath in months. The height wasn't right, the clothing was itchy on her exposed skin and his grip was punishing, unrelenting.

One thing was for sure, she didn't know who it was but it wasn't Arthur.

"Don't move," he growled in her ear. "Be a good little girl, and maybe you'll be allowed to live."


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 18

Her head hurt.

Why did it hurt?

Her vision was black? Why couldn’t she see?

Why couldn’t she remember what had happened? Why did her back hurt? Why was it so cold? It’d been a lovely sunny day.

“Hermione?” A voice whispered. She recognised it. “Hermione?”

She turned her head towards the sound, feeling it press against the cool leather of a boot. A cool breeze brushed against her exposed skin.

“Hermione?”

Her eyes fluttered opened, her vision blurry. Oh, that was why she couldn’t see. She blinked slowly, a darkening sky coming into view above. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a dark boot and she slowly followed it with her gaze, revealing dark breeches, a dark blue shirt and finally the worried expression of Prince Arthur.

“Hermione?” His voice was quiet and she noted that his gaze darted away from her, glaring at something in the distance before returning to her, his expression softening.

“What happened?” Her voice was quieter than she’d have liked.

“You do not remember?” He questioned with a frown.

“No,”

“Perhaps that is for the best,” he muttered, shaking his head lightly.

Frowning, Hermione tried to sit up, realising that she was laid on the ground, but she couldn’t sit up. She had no hands to help as they were tied behind her back, the knot tight and unforgiving and she gave up trying to wiggle free when the rope chafed against her skin. So, that was why her back ached. From lying on the hard ground and her tied hands digging into her back.

Still in her attempt to sit up, she took a calming breath, gathered her thoughts and then tried again, using what little upper body strength she had to lift herself up and then pressing her hands against the ground to shuffle back, managing to push herself up until she was perched beside Arthur on the log.

She ignored his eyes observing her worriedly as she took a survey of her surroundings. They appeared to be far from the stream as she could neither see nor hear it, she didn’t recognise the area of woods they were currently in and she could see no pathway that was frequently travelled. They were surrounded by nothing but trees. She could hear voices and she turned her head to face forward, squinting slightly to see several figures hidden in the darkness but bathed by the firelight as they sat and milled about the firepit.

Her eyes moved back to Arthur, finally noticing his rumbled appearance, the nasty looking cut on his cheek and that his hands were tied behind his back, too.

“You’re hurt,” she said worriedly.

Despite the circumstances, his mouth tugged into a smile. “I am fine, I’m more concerned for you.”

Her eyes fell downcast, seeing the previously cheery yellow of her dress now being covered in mud and dirt, if only the seamstress could see her now. But aside from a headache and her hands being tied behind her back, she felt fine.

“Me?”

“You’ve a bump on your head. It must be from when you were struck by the butt of a sword, I’ve seen it happen enough times to recognise the marking left behind.”

She frowned, her eyes darting back to the firepit and then everything sunk in, remembering the man hauling her behind a tree but after his threat, she remembered nothing.

“Oh,” she muttered, lifting her eyes back to him. “I’ve one very important question.” He arched an eyebrow. “Who was abducted first, me or you?”

A snort fell from him. “You.”

“Fantastic,” she grumbled unhappily. “What happened, Arthur?” She questioned, her eyes darting between him and the shadowed men.

“Bandits, six of them, to my knowledge. I heard you scream. By the time I’d retrieved my sword and found you, you were unconscious. I tried to fight them but there was too many of them,” he explained, looking to her apologetically.

Hermione released a tired sigh. “It is not your fault, Arthur, and I don’t blame you for anything that happened. Things have been going rather well lately, something was bound to happen eventually,” she tipped her head, resting it against his shoulder. “Although, rather than you coming for me, I’d have much rather you’d returned to the castle and gathered a group of men to aid in a rescue attempt.”

“If you are injured or in harm’s way, nothing will stop me from helping you.”

“Yes, that is something I’ve come to understand,” she replied. “How long have I been out?”

“I can’t be sure, you were unconscious when I arrived. You woke briefly, barely a moment or two before falling under. It has been a couple of hours, I believe.”

“They will be looking for us, won’t they?”

“Yes. We should’ve returned to the castle before nightfall and as we didn’t, my father will dispatch some of the Knights to search for us.”

“So we do nothing and we wait until they find us?”

“Whilst we may not have travelled far from the city, we are in area of the woods that even I don’t recognise. It could take the Knights days to find us. We don’t know the bandits’ intentions. They may try to hold us for ransom.”

“Do they know who we are?”

“No, I don’t believe so, but I know they have both my sword and cape bearing the Pendragon crest, that alone is enough for them to deduce I am connected to the throne. Perhaps not as a Knight, as I’m not wearing my armour, nor as a Prince, as I don’t have my crown, but still involved. As for you, they may believe I’m your protector, which would make you someone of importance, but they don’t know just _how_ important we are.”

“Perhaps it is best it remains that way. I believe things might escalate should they learn our identities and it might put us in further danger.”

“Agreed,” he nodded. “I’ve been working on an escape plan...”

“Arthur, I hate to point out the obvious, but, we are both retrained with our hands behind our backs, the bindings are too tight to break and we have nothing to cut ourselves free. We have no idea where we are, we have no weapons, we are outnumbered and even if we did manage to escape, there is nothing to stop them from chasing after us. We’d never get away. You are a remarkable swordsman, but even you cannot fight against so many opponents. You have already been injured once, next time they might kill you.”

“We can’t do nothing. They might kill us anyway,” he argued.

“They might, but our chances of survival are better if we keep our heads down. If they perceive us to be weak, they will underestimate us, and that is something we could use to our advantage.”

“If I have the chance to break free and get you to safety, I can’t promise that I won’t take it, but I will promise to not do anything to anger them.”

Well, it was the best she was going to get.

Unfortunately for them, one of the bandits looked in their direction and seeing that she was awake, huddled next to Arthur and they were quietly whispering between one another, he alerted the rest of the group, all eyes turning to them.

He approached, stepping away from the firelight and into the darkness, Hermione only being able to see him once he neared, and he was filthy. His dark shaggy hair in need of a brush, his pale skin in need of a good scrub, his clothing in need of a wash. He was barely taller than her but his strong physique more than made up for his height, making him intimidating.

“Yer awake, I see,” he spoke, his dark eyes watching her in a way she didn’t like and neither did Arthur as he glared at him murderously, something Hermione would later berate him for.

“Well, if I hadn’t been clobbered over the head I wouldn’t have been unconscious at all, now would I?” She replied calmly, refusing to back down from his stare.

His mouth twitched. “From what I hear, yer were making a lot of noise and had to be silenced.”

“I don’t care for being manhandled, especially by thugs.”

He chuckled cruelly before closing the distance and crouching down before her. He reached up with his cold hand, grasping her chin with enough pressure to ache, only tightening his grip when she tried to pull away from him.

“Yer a pretty little thing,” he said, paying no mind to the silently seething Prince beside her. “Yer name?”

“Ginevra,” she lied.

He tipped his head to the side, observing her carefully.

“A name like that, a dress like the one yer wearing, the way yer talk, yer a noblewoman, aren’t yer?”

“No,”

“Liar,” his eyes narrowed before they finally moved to Arthur. “And yer. We have yer sword and yer cape. Yer a nobleman. Yer work fer the throne.”

“No,” Arthur denied. “My father does, I have several older brothers, I hold no titles and I never will.”

“I don’t believe yer. No matter, I’m sure we can get something fer yer.”

“Holding us ransom will do you no good, we are of no importance,” Hermione said.

His eyes moved back to her. “Fer yer sake, I hope we do. If not, we’ll sell yer to the slave masters. They’d love a pretty thing like yer,” he smirked cruelly, trailing the back of his other hand down her cheek.

“Don’t you dare touch her!” Arthur exploded and then in the blink of an eye, he threw himself forward, tackling the bandit to the ground.

It drew the attention of the others but not enough for them to approach, seeing as the bandit before him easily threw Arthur off him and had the upper hand with both his strength and Arthur being without his hands. Hermione couldn’t look as he punched Arthur across the face, nor as he was kicked in the stomach and she had to look away. It was only when she heard a choked cough that she forced herself to face forward, a feeling of sickening horror filling her stomach when she saw the bandit’s hands settled around Arthur’s throat.

“No! Stop, please don’t hurt him! He was just trying to protect me! STOP IT!” She shrieked, her eyes filling with tears.

Miraculously, he listened to her, his eyes snapping to her and he pulled his hands away from Arthur, the Prince gasping for air on the ground. The man rose to full height and approached her, crouching down before her.

“Yer cry fer him, why?” He asked, seeing a tear fall down her cheek.

“He is a good man. He was only trying to protect me.”

“Yer care fer him. Yer sneaking ‘round, aren’t yer? That’s why yer in the woods far away from the city, where no one can see yer.”

“I...”

“Leave them,” a deep voice instructed from the shadows, but Hermione couldn’t see who it belonged to.

Looking none too pleased, the bandit rose to full height once more, turned and left them, heading back towards the firepit with the other bandits. Once he was gone, Hermione sprang from the log, landing on her knees and she shuffled over to Arthur.

“Arthur?”

“I’m fine, I’ve taken worse in training,” he assured her.

Hermione didn’t believe him. He’d been kicked in the stomach several times and was highly likely to be developing bruising on the abdomen, he sported hand shaped marks around his throat and had a few more cuts added to his face.

“Why did you do that? It was stupid! I said don’t provoke them! He could’ve killed you! He _was_ going to kill you had he not been stopped!”

“I wasn’t going to let him lay a finger on you.”

“He wasn’t hurting me, just making me uncomfortable,” she argued. “I don’t want you risking your life for mine. You are more important than I am.”

“Not to me.”

“Arthur,” she whispered, giving her head a light shake and finding it difficult to tear her gaze from his. “You can’t...”

“Yer should listen to the girl,” the same deep voice spoke up, stepping out of the shadows and into her line of sight, and the moment she did so, she froze, her eyes widening.

She recognised him. His messy dark hair and eyes. His tanned but dirty skin. His imposing height. His deep and gravelly voice. The badly healed scar around his throat.

She was right. There hadn’t been seven bandits the day Arthur had found her. There had been eight! The man before her, the only thing that could make a scar such as that was a wolf. _Oh God!_ The blood! It hadn’t belonged to a rabbit, it’d belonged to _him_!

“...If yer want to live. I have no issues with killing you, it’s not yer that I want. It’s her.”

Arthur pulled himself up into a sitting position, glaring at him in challenge.

“You’re not going to touch her.”

The bandit smiled cruelly before approaching, stopping before Hermione and bending slightly and without warning, Hermione felt a stinging in her lip and cheek as warm blood dribbled down her face, her head snapping to the side and the skin splitting after catching on the ring he wore.

“You can’t stop me,” he replied coldly before turning and heading back to the firepit.

“Hermione?” Arthur called, a horrified expression on his face.

“I’m fine, Arthur, I’m not one for reusing past insults, but, my Grandmother hits harder than him and she’s been dead for twelve years.”

“Hermione...”

“I’m fine,” she glared, the motion stopping his worried speech in its tracks. “No more heroics. We wait until help arrives.”

“That could be days,” he argued.

“It could be hours,” she argued. “We keep our heads down and we don’t draw attention to ourselves. I suspect that help isn’t too far away.”

“Meaning?”

“Akela,” she answered.

Arthur’s eyes widened, suddenly being reminded of the large wolf. Where was he? And Llameri? Did she stay where they’d left her by the stream? Or would she have wandered off?

“He’s been gone too long, even if he is hunting. He’s a very smart animal and will know something is wrong and he’d come looking for me. He may have already found me but is lurking in the shadows.”

“Then why wait? Why not attack now? He was going to attack the night we found you.”

“As I said, he’s very smart. He’s a predator, he knows when to wait and when to attack. If he’s not here, he might’ve returned to the castle and should he do so and see we are not with them, he might be able to lead our rescue party straight to us rather than them searching in the dark blindly. He knows our scents; he will be able to distinguish between ours and the scents of the wild.”

Arthur sighed in defeat. “That bandit, he targeted you?”

“I believe so, yes.”

“Why?” He frowned.

“Arthur, did you not see the scar on his throat?”

“Yes?”

“It was a wolf bite. The night you found me, I thought there were eight bandits, but you only found seven. It’s him. He’s the eighth man. The blood on Akela, it wasn’t a rabbit’s, it was his.”

Arthur’s expression darkened and he peered over his shoulder towards the bandits surrounding the firepit.

“I swear, Hermione, he is the first one I’m killing.”

~000~000~000~

Hours past in the dark of night and the freezing cold. Whilst the weather was lovely during the day, at night it was terribly cold, so much so, she was worried they’d both freeze to death, even if she had waited for Arthur to doze off and she silently cast a Warming Charm over the both of them.

Magic was an advantage, but not only couldn’t she risk using it in front of Arthur, there were still too many of them against her. She was getting desperate. She was freezing and hungry and tired but she didn’t dare fall asleep or let her guard down. She was sure Akela was nearby, too. She felt the piercing stare on the back of her neck sometime ago and it had yet to relent. She had one ally on her side, but she needed more.

The longer they were captured, the more worried she became, especially since she’d been watching the bandits steadily grow drunker and louder. Drunk men with swords were dangerous. All thoughts went out the window and given their intoxication, she wouldn’t be surprised if they grew tired of their plan to use them as ransom and just killed them to be rid of them. They had Arthur’s sword, something of great value and they had her dagger, too, no longer feeling it beneath her sleeve, they wouldn’t be completely empty-handed should they kill them.

“I don’t know how much longer I can take the waiting,” Arthur said from beside her, the both of them having moved to sitting on the ground beside one another and leaning back against the log.

“Me either,” she admitted, having thought they’d have been found by now.

The longer they were there, the more dangerous the situation became. She was tired of waiting. She abandoned all thoughts of patience and instead, started working on a plan of escape, but first they had to break free of their bindings. Her eyes searched her surroundings in the darkness, looking for anything that was sharp enough to cut through rope but not seeing anything. What she needed was something with a sharp edge, a blade. A knife or dagger perhaps. Maybe she could summon her dagger without Arthur or the men noticing. It was a risk, she just had to decide if it was one she was willing to take.

As her mind worked to make a plan, she was suddenly jarred from all thoughts when she felt a heavy weight weighing down her hands and the cool surface of metal against her skin.

“That’s not possible,” she whispered, already knowing without having to peer over her shoulder.

Arthur, hearing her whispered words, looked to her with a slight frown before he leaned back, his eyes falling down to her bound hands, widening at the sight of the Gryffindor Sword in her grasp.

“Hermione? That’s your father’s sword? But it’s at the castle, I’ve seen it in your chambers. You didn’t have it with you. How is it here now? How is that possible?”

Taking a breath, Hermione said, “Arthur, I’ll explain later, I promise, right now, we don’t have time. I’ve changed my mind, we need to get away from them. They’re drunk, less likely to be able to defend themselves but more dangerous.”

“We’re still outnumbered,” he pointed out.

“Not entirely, I’m certain Akela is here, I can feel his eyes watching me. He is fast and will help where he can. Turn around, use the sword to cut the bindings.”

He seemed to take a moment to compose himself and she didn’t blame him, even with Akela’s help, she had no experience in a swordfight so he’d be forced to fight the majority of them himself, but she’d lend assistance where she could.

He twisted his body, lifting his hands above the sharp edge of the blade and quickly rubbed the robe over it, his eyes darting between the bandits and watching was he was doing so he didn’t accidentally harm himself.

“Your turn,” he said, after the rope fell to the ground and he reached for the sword, taking it from her grasp, he quickly released her of her bindings and Hermione rubbed the warmth back into her wrists, wincing at the ache in her arms.

“Stay back, I don’t want you getting injured.”

“I assure you, I can take care of myself, Arthur,” she replied, “I survived a war, I can survive this.”

“Hermione...” Arthur made to argue but she interrupted.

“I’ll be careful, I promise, as long as you promise to do the same. We are outnumbered, take no unnecessary risks. If one escapes, let them. Once we are safe, they can be searched for and face a trail in Camelot.”

“No unnecessary risks,” he agreed.

“We have to wait for the right moment,” she said, twisting to look over her shoulder, peering into the darkness in search of her wolf that was well hidden.

“Be careful, Akela,” Hermione said quietly, not wanting to alert the bandits but hoping he’d heard.

She heard the rustle of leaves and the ground being disturbed by a heavy weight soon after, a soft sigh falling from her lips when she saw the bright blue of her large wolf’s eyes from beside a tree not far behind them.

“He’s here,” she informed Arthur, seeing the Prince peer over his shoulder, Hermione seeing some of the tension fall from him as his shoulders slumped.

Her eyes darted back to the six bandits when laughter sounded, seeing one of them had tripped in his drunken state and had landed face first in the dirt, a fight soon breaking out between him and another as he lunged at him, taking him to the ground. The rest of the men cheered and laughed and drank; this was the best distraction they were going to get. Two of them were already fighting, they might injure themselves.

“Now,” Arthur said, in agreement with her without realising it.

He was both quick and quiet as he stood and rose to full height, the Sword of Gryffindor clutched in his hand as he cautiously approached, doing his best to not bring attention to himself so soon.

Before Hermione had chance to blink and rise to her feet, a vicious snarl had sounded and Akela had silently crept through the trees until he was close enough to the bandits to pounce, landing in the glow of the firelight, his eyes gleaming, his back bowed and ears flat against his head as he snarled and bared his sharp teeth, and then, he lunged.

Two of the men were quicker than the others, two of them still on the ground after their fight and Akela caught a redhead by the throat, taking him to the ground as the bandit screamed and thrashed.

As the other bandits brandished their swords, the one that had previously fought with Arthur brought his sword down in an attempt to harm Akela, but there was a clash of metal as Arthur made himself known, the gold, silver and red of the sword glinting in the flickering flames of the fire.

Hermione watched as he was drawn into a sword fight with two of them, looking to be handling himself impressively, the other three surrounded Akela, looking hesitant to approach him. It didn’t matter, the man beneath him had long since quietened. Akela raised his head, his eyes searching for his next target and showing no fear, he slowly prowled forward towards a brunette, the man stumbling backwards and waving his sword madly, whether it was out of fear or intoxication, she didn’t know. But as he did that, the other two approached from behind him.

“No,” Hermione whispered in horror, her eyes barely darting towards Arthur when she saw one of them raise their sword and preparing to strike, and with a whispered word and a wriggle of her fingers, a spark of fire jumped from the firepit, catching his breeches and erupting in flames.

His sword fell from his grip as he yelled and cried out, flailing about as he attempted to extinguish the flames. Hermione didn’t know if it was his panic, his intoxication or if he was just an idiot, but he reached for some ale and poured it over the flames, only adding fuel to the fire.”

He was going to die and she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

The screams briefly distracted Arthur, drawing his attention to the burning man and in doing so, he received a slice to the arm from a sword and a hit to the back with the butt of a sword.

He needed help.

With another whispered word, Hermione had the one who’d fought with him seemingly trip over his own feet, sending him tumbling to the ground, allowing Arthur to drive his sword into the bandit’s stomach and quickly rolling out of the way of the second sword which almost took his head clean off from his shoulders. With him being alright, she turned her eyes back to Akela, seeing him being circled by two of the bandits as he snarled and snapped at them, blood coating his mouth and fur. He truly looked terrifying.

She didn’t want to risk using any more magic and she’d spotted her dagger glinting in the firelight and with that in mind and seeing the path being clear, she took off in a run, barely making it halfway before she found herself taken by surprise when she was tackled to the ground, a heavy weight landing on top of her, pinning her beneath them.

Hermione groaned in pain and slowly opened her eyes, seeing a rather large man above her.

What? Where the hell had he come from?

There were six men. She’d counted. Three were dead, Arthur was battling one and Akela the final two. That was six! Unless, there were more men they hadn’t known about, hadn’t accounted for. _Oh, God!_ How could she have been so stupid?! She should’ve known there’d be others hiding, keeping watch for any that may approach their camp during the night or to catch them should they escape. They’d heard the battle and returned to help. But she couldn’t see just how many had returned.

“Where’d yer think yer going, girlie?” He smirked cruelly, his grip on her wrists tight and sure to bruise.

“Get off me,” she ordered, her voice cold but calm.

“No, I don’t think I will. Once yer friend’s dead, we’ll get a pretty penny selling yer to the whore house.”

“I said, get off me,” she punctuated each word carefully, her eyes darkening, her magic building, the kind, soft side of her being shoved away and replaced by something colder, darker, more frightening.

His grip only tightened, Hermione took that as her cue.

She twisted her wrists in his grasp until she was able to wrap her fingers around his wrists before hissing, “ _Tempest_ ,” and rather than a bolt of lightning shooting from the sky, she felt it buzzing through her very being until it reached her fingertips and passed from her, straight into him.

His body convulsed, the look of surprise still on his face when he tipped to the side, his heavy weight pulling him towards the ground until he landed with a ‘thud’. Hermione didn’t stop to see if he was dead as she darted to her feet, seeing three other men that hadn’t been there before.

One was dead, two more were trying to defeat Arthur in battle and the other had joined in with the attempt to kill Akela. That made ten in total.

The adrenaline fought off the pain in her back and she raced forward, whispering another _Inpedimenta_ , in Arthur’s direction, hearing one of the bandits hit the ground, levelling the battle out a little more when one of the other bandits accidentally sliced into the other’s stomach when Arthur rolled out of the way.

She reached the firepit and she gripped the handle of her dagger, pulling it free from the ratty satchel it sat in, she barely stopped as she continued towards Akela. Letting her instincts take over, she threw the dagger without thought or feeling, watching as it left her fingertips, travelled through the air and lodged into the lower back of one of them.

He fell to the ground, he wasn’t dead but he would be, she’d intentionally aimed for his organs. She’d had almost three years to learn to hunt, more so since arriving in the past and a human was a much larger target than a rabbit. She’d have been angry with herself if she’d missed.

She halted to a stop, tore the dagger from the bandit’s lower back and then darted towards Akela through the gap in the now broken triangle formation they’d had him cornered in. Two bandits stood before her, one with their sword pointed at her and the other at her wolf; if they were surprised the wild, blood covered animal wasn’t attacking her but instead moved closer to her as if to protect her, they didn’t show it.

“I’d run if I were you,” she warned them. They didn’t move or speak. “No? Very well,”

With a wriggle of her fingers and a mutter falling from her lips, she barely darted a glance at Arthur as her magic heated the handle of the sword so hot, the bandit cried out and automatically dropped it, just as Hermione called, “Attack!”

Akela lunged, his jaw open wide and snapping shut around his neck, blood pouring as he ripped out the throat with his teeth, the bandit’s screams dying down slowly. Hermione had to be careful, she had a dagger and the bandit before her, a sword, and he caught her left arm when she dashed out of the way. He tripped over the charred body, dropping his sword and catching himself on his hands and when he pushed himself up, he charged at her, Hermione using her smaller size to her advantage, ducking under his larger body with her right hand outstretched, the bandit running straight into her dagger.

She didn’t pull it out of him until he hit the ground, leaving him to die.

She heard clashing metal and looked to Arthur, seeing him gracefully dancing out of the way of his opponent’s sword and within in the blink of an eye, Arthur fell to his knees and drove his sword through the bandit’s chest.

That was all of them.

Hermione allowed herself a moment to take a deep breath, caging away that darker side of her which had been released. She’d used an awful lot of magic and only prayed Arthur hadn’t seen any of it, but when the Prince rose to his feet, the Sword of Gryffindor gripped in his hand as he breathed heavily, his eyes sought her and he didn’t look disgusted or angry, he looked both worried and relieved. He hadn’t seen her.

“Akela, cover my tracks,” Hermione said quietly.

The clever wolf didn’t need to be told twice or require further explanation as he took off in a run, pouncing onto the body of the man Hermione had hit with a powerful electric current, tearing out his throat. If he hadn’t been dead before, he was now. Without any obvious signs of injury given their battle, it would be suspicious, now if found, people would assume an animal had killed him as it had some of the others.

Hermione was personally responsible for three, possibly four deaths, more if she counted those in which she unknowingly had aided Arthur, and she didn’t care. She reasoned that it was her or them, Akela and Arthur or them, that she’d more than likely killed before during the war, and that it wasn’t so taboo in the world she’d now lived in for two years. Priorities changed, people changed.

As Arthur slowly approached her, his eyes being wary of his surroundings lest there be any more surprise bandits ready to pop out of hiding, Hermione turned away from him and did a quick sweep of the bodies, her dagger still in her hand for the same reason. She determined they were all dead, but as she looked over the final man, she realised something.

“Arthur?” Hermione called, turning to see him stood by the firepit, both his sword and the Sword of Gryffindor held in each of his hands. She didn’t know where Akela had disappeared to, likely thinking the same as them and searching for any others who may have been hiding.

“Yes?” The Prince asked, his brow furrowing as she quickly approached with a worried expression.

“He’s not here.”

“I’m sorry?”

“ _He’s_ not here. The bandit from my attack, he’s not here. I’ve checked all of the bodies, none of them are him.”

Arthur’s expression grew grave as he turned in a circle, slowly surveying his surroundings.

“I don’t see anything,” he replied, “But we best be cautious and we should leave now and make a start on returning to Camelot.”

Hermione agreed and they’d barely taken a few steps when they heard voices approaching, Hermione and Arthur sharing a glance before they both gripped their weapons tighter and backed up to the warmth of the fire. As Hermione prepared to launch her dagger through the air, the sound of hooves picked up and they both looked to another, some of the tension leaving them but their guard not lowering.

It was only when the familiar face and horse of Sir Leon came into view as he burst out of the darkness, that Hermione and Arthur both sighed in relief. Six other Knights followed behind him, Hermione seeing that one of them also had Llameri and her reins were tied to the ones on their own horse. They’d either found her by the stream, or wandering the woods. Hermione wasn’t all that surprised when she saw Merlin wasn’t with them, knowing he’d been tasked with collecting ingredients for Gaius, some of them taking a day’s travel to reach their growing place.

“Sire! Your Highness!” Sir Leon called, dismounting his horse before he’d even halted to a complete stop and unsheathing his sword, the rest of the Knights following his lead as they slowly approached, their eyes moving between them, the bodies on the ground and searching for possible attackers.

“We are fine, Sir Leon,” Arthur assured him, paying no mind to their disbelieving expressions as they deliberately looked them up and down, bringing notice to their injuries. She was sure they looked a state.

“What happened, Sire?”

“Bandits took us hostage, there were too many to fight and Hermione was unconscious. We later found an opportunity to escape.”

“That is the extremely short version,” Hermione piped up, wiping the blood from the blade of her dagger on her skirts and then slipping it up her sleeve.

“That, I believe,” Sir Geraint said, looking to be struggling between amusement, worry and anger on their behalf. “I cannot imagine your father taking this news well.”

“Neither can I,” Arthur sighed.

A howl sounded and Hermione released a slow breath when Akela appeared from the darkness, quickly approaching and appearing to be uninjured. She’d dropped onto her knees before he’d even fully approached and then wrapped her arms around him tightly, pressing her face into his soft, warm fur.

“Thank you, Akela,” she muttered, pulling back when she heard a whine fall from his lips. “I am fine,” she promised when he nudged at the cut on her arm with his nose. “You protected me wonderfully, and I promise, I shall have the kitchens provide you as much cheese as you can eat.”

The large wolf’s mouth dropped open comically.

Hermione turned to her left when Arthur crouched down beside her, his hand raised until Akela pressed his head against it, Arthur scratching behind his ears.

“And I will ensure you are supplied with both apple pie and that you are fed rabbit, pork _and_ chicken every day.”

“Now you are spoiling him,” Hermione said. “He will get fat or make himself ill.”

“He deserves it,” he argued.

“Yes, he has been busy, hasn’t he?” A Knight she didn’t know the name of interrupted, his eyes surveying the mutilated bodies.

“He was protecting his lady,” Arthur defended, rising to full height and Hermione did the same, absentmindedly running her hand through Akela’s fur when he stood beside her.

“Yes, and please remind me to never do anything that may be interpreted as a threat, that is not how I wish my life to end,” he replied, gesturing to one of the bodies and the other Knights sniggered at him.

“He is very capable of protecting me, which is why he took offence when Michel and Emerick were assigned as my guards,” Hermione shrugged her shoulders.

“You have been quite busy yourself, Sire,” Sir Brennis complimented.

“You assume it was only Akela and I who are responsible for the bodies?” Arthur questioned. They Knights turned to her as one. “Hermione killed just as many as I did,” he informed them, a proud tone to his voice.

“Oh?” Sir Leon arched an eyebrow.

“Possibly,” Hermione lied. “I am smaller than they were, more agile. It was difficult but not impossible.”

She noted their amused expressions, as if they didn’t believe her. She didn’t care whether they did or not.

“I think we best take our leave, it’s cold, we’ve been held hostage for hours and we’re both in need of rest and medical attention.”

“Agreed, let’s return to the castle,” Arthur said, handing Hermione the Sword of Gryffindor and with his hand moving to the small of her back, he guided her forward towards Llameri, the other Knights moving to mount their own horses.

When Akela released a grumbled growl from his place beside her, Hermione stilled, her eyes darting about her surroundings.

“What is it?” Arthur questioned, the other Knights pausing in their movements, turning to look at her.

“Something’s not right,” she replied, her eyes moving between Akela and her surroundings.

And then she saw it. _Him_.

He fell from one of the trees, landing behind Sir Leon and with a strained cry, he raised his sword and brought it down towards Sir Leon’s back.

No one was close enough to intercept and Sir Leon wouldn’t be fast enough to turn and pull his own sword, neither could Akela reach him. Instinct took over and Hermione pulled her dagger from her sleeve and threw it.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as the dagger left her fingertips, moved through the air, past Sir Leon’s face and then it lodged firmly in the bandit’s chest, all in the passing of a couple of seconds. He fell to the ground, his sword falling from his hands and just to be sure, Akela pounced, ensuring his death. None of the Knights batted an eyelash as such a gruesome death; they were all staring at her, their eyes wide in surprise and their swords partially pulled, as if they’d frozen.

“Your assumptions, Sir Leon?” Arthur prompted, his tone proud and smug.

Sir Leon cleared his throat, peered over his shoulder at the dagger lodged into the chest of the man that had almost killed him, and then he looked back to her.

“I will never again tease you because of your height,” he commented, the other Knights snorting, giving their heads a shake and sheathing their swords.

Hermione scoffed. “That’s a lie,” she folded her arms over her chest. “You can’t help yourself.”

“When was the last time I teased you on your height?” He demanded.

“Yesterday,” Hermione’s mouth twitched.

“Ay, yes,” he cleared his throat, “I suppose it was,” he admitted, sniggers ringing out. “But I now owe you my life, I shall refrain from such height related teasing.”

“I’ll give you two days before you crack.”

“Two? That’s being kind,” Sir Brennis said, a scowl being sent his way.

“As far as we’re aware, that is them all, but be vigilant,” Arthur intervened before an argument could happen between his Knights, tipping his head towards the gathered horses.

Once they reached Llameri, Arthur conducted a quick check on her, ensuring she had no injuries before helping Hermione onto the saddle, quickly following her. He then fastened his cape around himself and then pulled it until it wrapped around Hermione, trapping them against one another in the warm fabric. When they set off on their journey back to Camelot, he followed Akela, trusting the wild-pet wolf to lead them home.

“The sword, Hermione?” Arthur questioned, no longer being able to take the silence or the not knowing.

“I was going to ask about that,” Sir Geraint spoke from beside them. “I know you keep it in your champers and you didn’t have it with you when you left the castle.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Hermione replied.

“You promised to explain its sudden appearance later, it is now later,” Arthur pointed out.

“Very well,” she agreed in defeat, seeing the rest of the Knights apparently listening in as they moved in closer to better hear her explanation.

“You have said the sword is unlike anything you have ever seen, there is a reason for that. All of your swords and weaponry is made by a blacksmith, and no matter their talent, materials or experience, they won’t be able to replicate a piece such as my father’s sword.”

“And why is that? Do you not have blacksmiths in Hogwarts?” A Knight asked, one Hermione wasn’t sure she knew the name of.

“We do, but this sword was not made by a blacksmith. You are all aware that Hogwarts is a Kingdom of peace, that we welcome magic. My father’s sword was made by goblins.”

“Excuse me?” Arthur said, sharing a dubious look with the other Knights.

“Goblins. Goblins, whilst greedy and menaces, make _the_ best jewellery and weaponry in existence. However, they rarely make such items, which is why they are so valuable and coveted. My father’s sword is priceless. It is crafted from goblin steel and imbued with magical properties and spells. That is why you have never before seen such craftsmanship. As for how it is here now, both this sword and my Grandfather’s is fitted with a magical spell that allows for the sword to materialise to those who are both in dire need and a true Gryffindor, no matter where they are,” she explained, glancing around to see their surprised expressions.

If she were honest, she was rather surprised herself.

She didn’t know how the sword had gotten to her. Whilst is did appear to those thought worthy of being a Gryffindor, it only did so in the Sorting Hat. She didn’t have that. She hadn’t even thought of the sword. It was just there. Why?

“Your Kingdom and its people sound like any other I have heard of,” Sir Leon spoke. “Perhaps I shall visit one day.”

“Perhaps,” Hermione smiled, knowing there was no chance he’d be able to gain access to the magically protected school. 

~000~000~000~

Arthur sat in a chair beside Hermione’s bedside, the large blood covered wolf that was her pet silently watching from his place by the lit fireplace.

Once they’d returned to the castle, there’d been a flurry of activity between the servants bringing them food and water, his father demanding answers to their whereabouts and what had happened, and Gaius checking them both over. None of their injuries had been life threatening and soon, they’d both been tended to and excused themselves and headed to their chambers.

Only, he hadn’t gone to his. He’d waited a short while outside of Hermione’s until he was sure she was sleeping, and despite knowing it was highly improper and betrayed Hermione’s privacy, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from entering into her chambers, a sense of calmness that he hadn’t felt since their time by the stream settling over him at the sight of Hermione sleeping soundly.

He hadn’t been able to leave her, even after seeing she was peacefully slumbering and he’d brought the chair from her dining table over to her bed and sat there quietly, watching her sleep. She looked so young and peaceful and beautiful that it was almost heartbreaking, and to think, after the events of that night, she could have been taken from him before she’d even known of his feelings for her.

He wasn’t sure how long had passed but the sky was showing signs of the sun soon to be rising, when Hermione made the first restless noise in her sleep. She turned in her slumber, facing him as she lay on her side, her wild hair fanned out on the pillow and an arm thrown out towards him. He hadn’t been able to stop himself and he cautiously reached for it, gently slipping his larger hand around hers, and when she didn’t wake, he’d leaned in closer, and raised his free hand, softly skimming the backs of his knuckles down her cheek, pausing when she released a sigh. Seeing she made no movement and there were no signs of her waking, his mouth tugged into a smile and he continued until he paused at her mouth, seeing her slowly healing split lip. Anger surging through him at her being harmed, he softly traced his thumb over the wound and then the entirety of her bottom lip.

“Arthur, you shouldn’t be in here.”

Arthur startled, pulling his hand back from her face but not releasing his grip on her hand, and he peered over his shoulder, surprised to see his father was still awake and appeared as though he hadn’t yet been to bed either. How hadn’t he heard him enter the room?

He turned his eyes back to Hermione’s slumbering face. “I know, Father, but I couldn’t sleep without knowing she was well. I came to check on her and once I was here, I couldn’t leave.”

“You care for her,” he stated knowingly. “You must guard your heart, Arthur,” he reminded him.

Arthur’s eyes slowly traced every detail of Hermione’s face and he released a soft sigh.

“I fear, it is already too late,” he replied, pulling his eyes from Hermione and turning to look over his shoulder at his father. “I love her,” he admitted the words aloud, both for the first time and to himself.

His father held his gaze, the blank expression held on his face. “Then we must pray King Godric receives our missive and replies with both a confirmation on her identity, and an acceptance of a union between you.”

“You should have seen her, Father. Never before have I seen a woman, a _Princess_ , fight in battle the way she did. I worried for her safety but it was for nought. I was reminded that she is a warrior, a survivor of war, she is someone I know can and will defend Camelot should it be needed.”

“You are proud?” His father asked.

“Yes,” he answered. “What if we do not receive a reply? If the riders do not return?”

Both the expression on his father’s face and the silence was very telling.

He reminded himself Hermione had not been in Camelot for long and the riders had six months to return. A lot could happen in that time.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 27

"Merlin!"

The manservant sighed, rolled his eyes and then plastered a smile on his face, turning around to see Prince Arthur approaching.

"Yes?"

Arthur stopped before him, narrowing his eyes suspiciously as he held the crossbow in his hand down by his side, having been practising his aim on the training fields for the last hour.

"Where is Hermione?"

"The Princess?" His eyebrow arched, his mouth twitching in amusement when the young Prince speared him with a withering glare.

"No, the handmaiden. Yes, of course, the Princess," he snapped irritably.

If he were honest, Merlin found it entertaining and he'd been enjoying ruffling the Prince's feathers for the last couple of weeks.

Merlin had always known and understood the Prince's thoughts and feelings surrounding Hermione but ever since the incident of their abduction, Arthur's protective instincts had grown exponentially, so much so, the Princess had taken to hiding from him for a small reprieve, not that Arthur knew that. It was to be kept secret, something only himself and Gwen knew. Whilst Merlin thought Arthur was being a tad overprotective, he also found it both amusing and quite adorable, too.

"I have not seen the Princess since we crossed paths this morning after breakfast. I'm not entirely sure what her plans were for today but I know she had her guards with her and Akela," he told the Prince, not blind to the way some of the tension seemed to drain from him at the news.

"And you do not know where she is?"

"No," Merlin confirmed and it was the truth. He'd been collecting and gathering ingredients for Gaius all day and had only recently returned to the castle's grounds. "Perhaps she is with the children," Merlin offered, knowing that with the recent start of construction of the approved orphanage Hermione had been spending quite a bit of time with the orphaned children in the lower city, preparing them for their transition.

"No, Guinevere told me she has not seen Hermione today and she's been with the children most of the day."

"Perhaps she is with Charles, helping to tend to patients."

"No, not only has the number of citizens requiring care decreased and it being the reason behind Hermione stepping back from her duties to allow Charles to take over, but I have already spoken with him. He has not seen her today either and he said she had no plans of collecting any ingredients for her remedies."

Merlin's brow furrowed. "The marketplace?"

"No, I had Sirs Leon and Geraint search the marketplace, none of the vendors recall seeing or speaking with her."

Merlin bit his lip, admittedly beginning to feel a little worried but he reminded himself that if she were in trouble, not only did she have her guards with her and Akela, she was more than capable of taking care of herself and if she weren't, Merlin wouldn't have been surprised if she knew some magical way to contact him other than the sister copper coins they sometimes used to communicate with each other during late-night hours when neither of them could sleep or he had a question about magic he couldn't wait to ask her.

"And she is not in the castle?"

"No, she has not been seen entering the castle since she left this morning," Arthur answered, doing his best to hide his worry but Merlin could see right through it. "Nor has she been seen walking the grounds."

"I am certain she is fine no matter where she is or what she is doing," Merlin assured him. "The Princess is well guarded and you have witnessed yourself that she is capable of wielding a dagger. She has yet to miss dinner and is likely to return before it is served."

Arthur released a breath and ran a hand through his hair.

"You are useless," he grumbled, turning on his heel and stalking away from him and back over to the group of training Knights.

From afar, Merlin observed Arthur setting down his crossbow and selecting a sword, beginning a fight with one of the Knights, Merlin wincing in sympathy when he saw Arthur was _not_ being merciful.

His eyes did a quick search of his surroundings and seeing no one nearby, he readjusted the strap of his heavy satchel over his shoulder and then dug into his pocket, feeling the cool metal of the coin in between his fingers. Pulling it free, he stared down at it, sending a quick message to Hermione, enquiring about her well-being. He held his body still and his eyes did not leave the coin until he received a reply several minutes later.

_I am well. Do not worry. I will be back for dinner._

Releasing a breath of relief, Merlin slipped the copper coin back into his pocket, gave his head a shake and left the training grounds, needing to take his gathered ingredients to Gaius.

~000~000~000~

"Dear Gods!" Hermione shrieked, her hand pressing against her heart in an effort to stop it from leaping from her ribcage. "Arthur! Was there any need in that?" She scolded, scowling at the Prince as he stood before her after having chased her down the corridor and darted in front of her, halting to a stop.

Arthur didn't reply, not even seeming to have registered her words as he stepped closer and brought his hands up to clasp her upper arms, his eyes slowly scanning her from head to toe in search of injuries. Seeing this, Hermione huffed and folded her arms over her chest.

Honestly, she was _very_ close to hexing him, her secret be damned. There was only so much she could take and Arthur was testing her patience.

After the incident of their abduction and escape, King Uther had forbidden both herself and Arthur from leaving the city gates alone. Whilst they were allowed to continue spending time together, if they should wish to leave the city that had to be accompanied by Akela and a guard of no fewer than five, something both she and Arthur had automatically baulked at. Their evenings and days spent together, no matter what it was they did, there was something comforting and private about it and neither of them wanted that experience to be witnessed or experienced by anyone else and because of that, they hadn't left the city since that day.

At first, the King hadn't allowed either herself or Arthur to leave the castle grounds and it was three days later when Hermione was cracking up and pacing the corridors like a caged animal, that Arthur went to his father and convinced him to lift their 'house arrest', using Hermione's need to be present in the lower city for her healing duties as an excuse.

Whilst she and Arthur continued to spend their time together by the stream or walking the castle grounds as they used to do, she was quite aware of the change in Arthur's behaviour. To most, it would be subtle but she knew Arthur rather well compared to most and the change was obvious to her. He was far more protective of her.

When he accompanied her through the marketplace, he was barely a step behind her, always watching for any who may wish her harm or stepping closer when she spoke to one of the vendors or she was approached by someone. He barely took his eyes off her when they were sat at the dinner table or when they were by the stream and Hermione read from a book, sometimes aloud and sometimes not. Heaven forbid if she sneezed.

Whilst she thought it was sweet he cared so much for her well-being, she also found it infuriating and had taken to hiding from him, ducking into alcoves or rooms when she heard him approaching or having Charles or Gwen lie to Arthur about her whereabouts so he wouldn't go in search of her or if he did, he wouldn't find her. She just needed some peace and sooner or later, if he didn't stop, she was going to snap.

"Arthur, I am fine," she assured him, trying to keep her voice calm.

His eyes snapped to her, looking at her accusingly. "Where were you today? No one I spoke to had seen you, Sirs Geraint and Leon didn't see you in the marketplace and you weren't with Charles. Anything could have happened to you and I wouldn't have known where you were."

She barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes at him and she unfolded her arms and batted his hands away from her, taking a step back from him whilst he blinked in surprise.

"Arthur, I know that what happened to us was unfortunate and difficult, but you really must stop worrying, it is driving me insane. I was completely safe. I had Emerick and Michel with me as well as Akela. I had planned on spending some time with the children and then later checking in with Charles when I was reminded that my ingredients supply was growing dangerously low and so I went in search of my required supplies in the woods, also allowing Akela the chance to hunt something other than rabbits."

"Hermione, you can't leave Camelot, it's too dangerous," Arthur's eyes widened in panic.

She released a slow sigh before her eyes darted about the empty corridor but not wishing for anyone to overhear or stumble upon them, she stepped around Arthur and crossed over to the door on the left, the door creaking as she opened it and stepped inside. Arthur followed after her in confusion and she closed the door behind him once he entered, briefly noting they were in one of the guest rooms. Just how many did the castle have?

"Arthur..." She started slowly, making sure she had his attention. "I did not leave Camelot, I was simply in the woods. I crossed the training grounds when you were training with a bow and arrow," she said, seeing a slight frown pull at his brow. She knew what he was thinking, why didn't he see her? "You were quite focused, and at the time, I believe you were breaking up an argument between two of the Knights. I was safe. When I am in Camelot, no matter who I am with, I am always safe. You need not worry."

"I always worry," he admitted, running his hand through his hair, a few strands sticking out at odd angles.

"I am touched that you hold such concern for me, but you are only causing yourself more stress. Since our abduction, you have been intolerable and whilst I know you mean well, it is overbearing, I feel like I can't breathe."

A horrified expression crossed his face. "I..." He paused, unable to finish his reply. He visibly swallowed before saying, "That had not been my intentions."

"I know," she assured him, softening her voice and offering a smile. "I know, Arthur, you are just worried, but please, stop. I enjoy our walks through the marketplace and our time spent by the stream, I am comfortable in your presence and I don't want anything to change between us but if you do not stop worrying, I'm afraid you might push me away."

"I don't want that," he shook his head. "I apologise."

"Apology accepted," she nodded. "Now, I believe we best head to dinner before they serve it without us and we're late."

Arthur released a breath and held his arm out in offering, Hermione slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow.

She was more than aware of his gaze being on her for the entirety of the walk and she purposely kept her attention facing forward.

~000~000~000~

"This one?"

Hermione looked up from browsing the clothing options for boys, wishing to purchase something new for her four young charges. With them now receiving regular and decent meals every day, whether it was Hermione making them, Charles buying food items from the market now that he could afford it, or food being sent from the castle's kitchens, they had all gone through a growth spurt and whilst Hermione could and had easily and magically altered their clothing to accommodate their growth, she didn't see the harm in purchasing new clothing so they had more than one of each essential clothing item.

"I'm sorry?" She questioned.

"What do you think of the colour?" Arthur asked, holding a pale pink scarf by one of the stalls to the left.

"Arthur, it is pink," was all Hermione said.

Arthur's face pulled into a slight grimace. "Yes, and you hate pink," he nodded knowingly, putting the scarf back on the table and perusing the other colours.

A week had almost past since she'd had her talk with Arthur and she was extremely glad to see that things had all but gone back to normal. Whilst she was sure his feelings hadn't changed, he'd certainly learned to get a better grasp on those overprotective tendencies and she no longer had to purposely hide from him.

They were taking a walk through the marketplace and it was just herself and Arthur that day before they both intended to go their separate ways, Hermione to check on the progress of the construction of the orphanage and Arthur to tend to some council business with his father.

"This one?" Arthur suggested, holding a lilac coloured scarf.

"It's pretty," Hermione admitted. "Why do you wish to know my opinion? Why are you looking at such an item?" She tilted her head in confusion.

His mouth twitched. "As a gift, of course."

"A gift? Who for?" She questioned curiously.

His eyebrow arched. "For you, who else?"

She blinked slowly before giving her head a shake. "That is kind of you, Arthur, but I cannot accept such a gift."

"Why?" His brow furrowed.

"You should know by now, I am not one for material possessions and I don't much like accepting gifts from others. Besides, what do I require of a scarf? The weather has yet to take a turn for the worst, the days are lovely and when they are not I have cloaks to protect me from the cold."

She turned her eyes to the older woman before her, handing her payment for her selected items before she placed them into her basket and then walked off, missing the exasperated look Arthur gave to the amused vendor before he followed after her.

After Arthur had offered to buy her various jewellery items, perfumes and even a pig (an actual pig!) Hermione's annoyance at his persistence had morphed into amusement, watching as the Prince all but pouted for the remainder of their walk. As she neared the last couple of stalls, Hermione purchasing some pies she'd later take to her four charges, she felt a tap on her shoulder and she turned around, a smile pulling at her mouth at the sight of Arthur stood before her, a bouquet of white and purple flowers held in his grasp.

"Princess," he bowed playfully, his mouth pulled into a wide smile and his blue eyes sparkling in the beam of sunlight that shone down on them, not being the slightest bit embarrassed by their audience watching them, the citizens in the marketplace halting in their steps to observe and whisper between one another.

"My Prince," Hermione played along, placing her basket on the ground, holding the skirts of her red dress in her hands and then curtseying, rising to full height when Arthur did so, too.

"A gift for a Princess as beautiful and delicate as you," he beamed a smile.

Hermione immediately felt her cheeks fill with heat as she accepted the flowers from him, bringing them closer to her face and burying her nose against the soft petals, breathing in the sweet, floral scent.

"Thank you, Arthur," she replied. "They are beautiful, and this is a gift I will happily accept," she responded, Arthur's smile seeming to grow wider.

Hermione darted a quick glance around her, seeing the excited whispers that seemed to have broken out amongst their audience and she shifted on her feet nervously, thankfully, she was saved from further embarrassment in the form of a distraction she most certainly hadn't been expecting.

"Your Highness! Your Highness!" A voice called frantically, pushing their way through the crowd until he reached the front and halted to a stop, doubling over slightly as he breathed heavily.

"Emerick? What's wrong?" Hermione frowned, seeing her usually composed personal guard looking so worried, his guard's uniform askew and being without his helmet.

"It's Polly, Your Highness," he breathed out.

"Goodness," Hermione whispered, her eyes widening.

Polly was Michel's wife, someone he spoke of often when they were away from the castle, someone he knew he loved dearly and after being married for two years, she was now heavily pregnant.

Hermione knew that Michel and Emerick had grown up together, Michel's mother helping to care for Emerick when his mother had died and his father struggled with the loss of his wife and raising a young son. For that reason, it wasn't all that surprising that Michel and Emerick were brothers in everything but blood, just as she'd been the same with Harry and Ron. Emerick's worry meant one of two things; a, Polly had gone into labour or b, something was terribly wrong.

"The baby..."

He wasn't given time to finish as Hermione whirled around, turning away from his worried expression and Arthur's surprised one before she faced the man and woman that tended to the baked goods stall.

"Arnold, would you mind if I left my purchases here and collect them later in the day?" She asked the older man.

"Of course not, Your Highness," he barely gave it thought.

Hermione smiled before she placed her bouquet of flowers in the basket and turned back to Emerick.

"Where is she?"

"Michel was escorting her to your medical hut."

Propriety be damned, she lifted her skirts in her hands so she wouldn't trip and then she took off in a run, Emerick and Arthur so being surprised by her behaviour that it took them a moment to catch up. Hermione ran and she didn't stop until she reached her destination, not even to wave to or smile at some of the lower city citizens who called out a greeting or the children who wished to speak with her. When she reached the medical hut, she could hear cries coming from inside and the door slammed against the stone wall when she barged in.

All eyes turned to her, seeing her chest rising and falling with laboured breathing, her hair windswept and a thin sheen of sweat breaking out on her forehead.

Charles looked both horrified and relieved as he stood at the end of the cot Polly was occupying, looking as though he couldn't decide between being sick or fainting. In all of the weeks she'd been training Charles and everything he'd witnessed, this was the only thing that had fazed him. She'd wanted to hand over control to Charles but before she could do that, she knew he'd have to assist with child delivery, and despite being in Camelot no more than three months, she, herself, had yet to deliver a baby, too. Luckily, she had plenty of experience from her time in Ealdor. She wasn't so cruel to throw Charles into the deep end, if it had been anything else she wouldn't have hesitated, but this was something she would have to tend to herself and have Charles assist.

"Your Highness, thank god," Michel breathed out, looking a mixture of horrified but worried.

"Not to worry, all will be well. Now, let's see to things shall we?"

Hermione calmly but quickly crossed the room, reaching for some soap and water to clean her hands with and she turned her eyes to Charles.

"Charles? Charles!" She called, his eyes snapped to her. "I need hot water, a towel or sheet, a knife or dagger and some string or wire."

"Hermione..." He trailed off, his wide eyes darting between her and the crying woman on one of the cots, one she knew he would most certainly _not_ sleep in that night.

"Charles, listen to me. I need your help. Whilst I am quite capable of doing this on my own, I would much rather have your assistance. This is something you need to know and it's imperative you listen and observe carefully."

Taking a breath, he seemed to compose himself before he darted about the room, retrieving the items she'd asked for.

"Michel, perhaps you'd like to wait outside?" She suggested.

"Oh, yes, yes, of course," he said quickly, looking relieved as he all but ran from the hut and shut the door behind him.

Hermione chuckled before she closed the distance between herself and the cot, kneeling on the ground and seeing Polly watching her star-struck despite her current situation. She had bright green eyes, her hair a dark blonde which fell down to her shoulders in a limp, sweaty mess. Her skin was sun-kissed, her cheeks chubby and her nose small. Hermione thought she was quite pretty and could only imagine what her future children may look like.

"Not to worry, My Dear," Hermione gave her a comforting smile, "I've delivered plenty of babies and I've yet to let either mother or child down."

"A Princess is delivering my baby," she whispered in child-like awe.

Hermione smiled amusedly. "Yes, a Princess is delivering the baby of which her personal guard fathered. That will be quite the tale when they are older and they have quite the bragging rights when they have friends."

Polly released a laugh which soon morphed into a loud cry and Hermione winced in sympathy before reaching for the skirts of Polly's dress and lifting it.

"Is this your first child?" She asked despite already knowing the answer, she just wanted to distract her.

"Yes,"

"What are you hoping for? A boy or a girl?"

"I want a boy, Michel wants a girl," she panted. Hermione arched an eyebrow knowing that there was always supposed to be one male child born to carry on the family name, especially for those of nobility or royalty. "Michel has four brothers, he is the second eldest and witnessed the hassle they caused his mother. He believes a daughter will be less stressful."

Hermione laughed and shook her head. "Oh, then he is most certainly in for a rude awakening when she reaches her teen years."

"Yes, I believe he might lock her away when she begins to speak of marriage," Polly replied, sharing a laugh with Hermione.

"I want you to mimic my breathing, it will help manage the pain," Hermione explained, practising the breathing exercises she'd read about in one of her medical textbooks long ago by breathing out two short breaths quickly and following it with a longer, slower breath. "Good," Hermione praised when the mother-to-be did the same. "Charles? This baby is not going to wait much longer," she warned, not taking her eyes from Polly.

Charles was soon beside her, looking as though he was fighting off the urge to faint or flee, placing his gathered items on the ground.

"Thank you, did you wash your hands? Excellent. Polly, you are fully dilated and when you feel the need, I want you to push. I know it hurts and I know it's hard but trust me, this is all going to be worth it, once you have your little one in your arms, you will never again care for what you went through. If it will help, grip the sides of the cot and don't let go, squeeze as hard as you can."

"I...I think I need to push," Polly spoke around her breathing exercises.

"Are you ready?" Hermione looked to the fifteen-year-old.

"No," he shook his head, looking horrified.

"Wonderful," she said lightly, paying no mind to his annoyed glare. "Polly, push!"

As the minutes ticked by, Charles' pallor gruel paler and Polly's cries grew louder.

"Charles, take over," Hermione instructed.

"What?" He squeaked out, terrified.

"Take over, everything is progressing as it should... You're doing wonderful, Polly, take a breath and push... I have no concerns regarding the health of the mother or baby, we are almost through here. Just be sure to support the baby... Polly, we're nearly there, I need one more big push. You may scream as loud as you wish, shatter the windows for all I care, but I need you to do this."

"I can't!" She sobbed.

"Yes, you can. I know you can... Charles, I'm right here, don't worry, you're doing fine..." She said before she left his side and kneeled at the side of the cot, holding her hand out in offering and Polly quickly latched onto it, squeezing tightly. "I'm right here with you, one more push and it's all over. Squeeze as hard as you need to, break my fingers if you wish but take a deep breath and push..."

Hermione was sure to keep her expression supportive and calm and not show the pain that spiked through her as Polly gripped her hand tightly and moments later, Polly collapsed back onto the cot and a cry sounded, Hermione turning her eyes to see Charles looking equally horrified and mystified.

"Well done, let me see to the little one and I'll be right back," Hermione said, giving her hand a squeeze before releasing it and moving over to Charles.

"Grab the dagger, cut the umbilical cord and then tie it off with the string," Hermione instructed, carefully taking the newborn from Charles' stunned form, it taking a moment for him to process Hermione's instructions.

"We need to gently clean the baby of the blood and fluids," she said, Charles immediately reaching for a sheet and dipping it in the water, watching as Hermione gently cleaned the baby's skin whilst supporting it in one arm.

When she was done, Charles handed her a second clean and dry sheet and swaddled the baby the best she could with only one hand.

"Is... Are they well?" Polly breathed out, looking worried and exhausted.

Hermione lifted her eyes from the wriggling newborn in her arms and looked to Polly, smiling.

"Exceptionally well," Hermione assured her, finding the baby's pulse and feeling the heartbeat beneath her fingers, it all seeming normal. "The cries are a good indicator of having a healthy set of lungs and whilst it is music to the ears now, in a few weeks it will be the worst noise you've ever heard."

Polly laughed and reached up, pushing her hair back from her face.

"Charles, would you like to do the honours?" Hermione asked.

"I'm sorry?" He blinked in surprise.

Hermione tipped her head. "You helped to deliver the firstborn child of Polly and Michel. Would you like to present her their child and inform them of the sex?"

Charles cleared his throat before accepting the baby, Hermione noting that he didn't seem all that uncomfortable or worried about holding such a delicate little being, but she supposed he was a decade older than little Kenelm and he'd likely held him when he was a young baby, too.

Charles moved to crouch beside the cot, "You've got yourself a daughter," he informed Polly, carefully placing the newborn onto her mother's chest as arms came up to cradle her and a happy sob broke free.

Charles rose to his feet and backed away, giving her a moment alone with her baby and he moved to stand beside Hermione as she washed her hands with water and soap.

"You delivered your first baby today, how do you feel?" She asked him.

He slumped against the table, pressing his hands against the surface and bowing his head.

"That was... _Horrifying_!" He whispered. Hermione laughed. "But I feel... I don't know, good. Really good."

Hermione nodded. "It is an experience," she agreed. "There is nothing quite like helping to bring a child into the world but I warn you Charles, not all experiences are as happy or successful."

"Meaning?" He frowned, turning his head towards her.

"Whilst I have been lucky enough to not yet experience such a thing myself, there are cases where the child may be stillborn." He looked confused. "Dead, Charles. Some children are _born_ dead." He looked horrified, an expression which had been present for most of the morning, she knew. "Some children are born with health issues, some women have complications during childbirth, resulting in the loss of the baby, of the mother and sometimes both. Some women have the baby but do not want to keep it."

"Why would they not want to keep it?"

"In most cases, the mother was raped, the child was born out of wedlock or the mother works in or for a brothel."

"Oh," he nodded, a frown marring his features.

"I will teach you how to combat the complications of childbirth and pregnancies but for now, you should be incredibly proud of yourself. And whilst I do still wish for you to assist with one or two more childbirths before delivering a child on your own, I'm confident in your ability to succeed and with my decision."

"Decision?"

Hermione smiled before she crossed over to a cabinet, opened the drawer and reached inside, pulling out a scroll of parchment and returning to his side. She held it out to him and he took it with curious caution, releasing the string that tied it together and unrolling it, his eyes scanning the neat, loopy script before him, something he recognised having read most of Hermione's medical notes.

_I, Hermione Gryffindor, a physician in the Kingdom of Camelot, do hereby declare my apprentice, Charles Swift, a trained and highly competent physician._

Beneath that was a smaller, messier script he'd never before seen.

_I, Gaius, Court Physician to the Pendragon throne in the Kingdom of Camelot, have witnessed the competency of apprentice Charles Swift and do hereby declare him a trained physician._

Beneath that was a third and final script, the handwriting bigger than Hermione's and slightly slanted.

_I, crowned Prince Arthur Pendragon of the Kingdom of Camelot, have witnessed the extensive training apprentice Charles Swift has undergone under the watchful eye of Princess Hermione Gryffindor, one of the greatest physicians I have ever been under the care of, and do hereby give the royal approval of declaring Charles Swift a trained physician._

Each script was signed by the correct author and at the foot of the scroll was the Pendragon Royal Stamp.

He'd literally been given the royal seal of approval, something most physicians did not get.

He dropped the parchment to the ground and opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out.

Amused by his reaction, Hermione reached down and picked up the parchment from the ground, her eyes scanning the words written before she rolled her eyes and reached for the string, retying the scroll after rolling it up. She wasn't all that surprised Arthur had given Charles his approval whilst also complimenting her in the same sentence. He couldn't help himself. Arthur hadn't taken that much convincing when she'd asked if he'd give his approval of declaring Charles a trained physician, simply because she'd been the one to ask, he'd witnessed Charles training under her and she knew that there wasn't much he'd deny her. Gaius, on the other hand, had taken a lot more convincing but with Merlin's help, they'd finally succeeded.

Whilst her approval was more than enough, having the approval of a second physician always worked in one's favour and having the approval of a Royal was the highest level of approval one could get. Should Charles ever decide to leave Camelot, all he had to do was show his 'credentials' and he'd be set for life.

"Charles?" She called.

"I...I don't understand," he muttered, giving his head a shake.

"What is there to understand? You are no longer an apprentice, you are a physician."

"But..."

"No, you are a physician," she repeated. "And now you have more options available to you than ever. Should you wish to leave Camelot and form your own practice, you have the approval of two healers and a Royal, something that will work in your favour immensely."

"I don't want to leave, I can't do that to my brothers, Camelot is their home," he frowned.

She smiled. "And that brings me to your second option. I want you to take over."

"Take over? Take over what?"

She arched an eyebrow. "Here, of course," she gestured about the hut. He gawked at her. "I am going to step down and allow you to be the physician in charge."

"But...But I'm not ready," he protested.

"Why is precisely why you are ready," she promised. "You know what to do, you've been shadowing me for weeks. You know how to make the remedies and I've begun teaching Harrow. He can help when you need him to. And I will always be nearby should you need my help. Since you are no longer my apprentice and medical care is given for free, you won't be paid for your services like most physicians, so I will continue to pay you and now that you are trained, I will double your wage."

"Double?" He spluttered.

"Yes," she smiled, tilting her in amusement. "Also, do you remember Kaelyn?"

His brow furrowed. "The servant girl you freed?"

"Yes, well, she now owns all of the late Thorley Harte's properties, one of which, I'd originally intended to purchase for the use of turning it into a medical hut. I've spoken to her and we have since settled on a price, I have purchased the property which is located in the heart of the city, in your name."

"Excuse me?" He choked on his own breath, Hermione reaching out to pat him on the back.

"You now _own_ your own home. It is twice the size of this hut and will house you and your brother's comfortably. I've already arranged for furnishings to be sent and set up so you may spend your first night in your new home. I have already been by and completed the same wardings as I have around this hut," she added quietly so Polly wouldn't overhear.

"I can't accept that, Hermione."

"Yes, you can and yes, you will. Think of it as a congratulatory gift. Now that you have a property, you no longer have to save to purchase one and can use your wage to ensure you and your brothers never go hungry again."

"Thank you," he whispered, looking as though he wished to say more but couldn't.

She smiled at him. "You are very welcome. I care for you and your brothers very much, I only wish to see you safe and comfortable. You have worked exceptionally hard, Charles, and I am very proud of you."

Charles' eyes darted away from her and to the cooing mother, his eyes widening.

"Hermione, _what_ is that?"

Hermione looked to Polly, a snort falling from her when she saw what his horrified gaze had landed on.

"That is the placenta, also known as the after birth. It is imperative that it is removed in its entirety. Some mothers like to eat it..." He grimaced. "Some physicians keep it and use it in their remedies but I like to simply burn it."

Hermione approached Polly after collecting a clean sheet and she was quick to clean the mess, being sure to put it off to the side so she could get Polly's preference later on.

"Polly, are you ready for visitors?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, I can't wait to see Michel's expression."

Hermione laughed before she helped to prop the new mother up with pillows and then covering her with a blanket to offer more privacy before she headed for the door, opening it to see a pacing Michel, a sickly-looking Emerick and a bored-looking Prince Arthur.

"Michel?"

He halted to a stop and spun to face her, his expression one of worry and pleading.

She smiled. "Mother and baby are doing exceptionally well," she promised and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Is it..." He hesitated. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

Her mouth twitched in amusement. "Polly explained that you wished to have a girl?"

"Yes," he nodded, Hermione seeing Arthur's surprised expression but that was understandable given he was expected to one day produce a male heir to the throne.

"You are aware that whilst girls do tend to be more mature for their ages, that once they reach their teenage years, they can be quite the handful, I would know, being female, myself." He paled in realisation and she laughed. "Congratulations, Michel, you have a daughter and she is beautiful."

A smile broke out on his face and Hermione stepped aside to allow him past and into the hut, Emerick following after him with a smile of his own.

The moment she stepped back into the hut, she barely stopped herself from laughing when she saw both mother and father cuddling and cooing over their daughter and Emerick's extremely pale expression as he swayed on his feet. Apparently now seeing the funny side, Charles smirked before offering the personal guard a seat and he sagged down onto it, staring down at the ground with his head buried in his hands.

"Men," Hermione rolled her eyes before sending a wink to Polly and the new mother giggled before turning her eyes back to the newborn in her arms, staring down at her adoringly.

"So, if you don't mind my asking, have you thought of a name for her?"

Michel carefully and hesitantly accepted his daughter into his arms before he shared an apprehensive look with his wife and they both turned to look at her as one.

"Well..." He paused, swallowing nervously. "If...If you wouldn't be opposed to it, we would like to name her Hermione, Your Highness."

Hermione blinked in surprise, her mouth parting a little and she released a puff of air.

"You wish to name her after me?" She questioned slowly.

"Yes, Your Highness. You are the kindest, most compassionate woman I have ever met and you delivered my child safely and ensured the health of my wife, something I will always be grateful for. We wish to name her Hermione in hopes that she will one day grow to be as kind and selfless as you are."

If Hermione were honest, she was touched by the notion and felt tears sting at her eyes. She never in a million years thought she'd have a baby named after her.

"I have never been more honoured," Hermione replied, smiling kindly.

Michel and his wife shared a look of relief before turning their attention to their daughter. Hermione felt a presence behind her and without having to look, she knew it to be Arthur. She felt his hand press against the small of her back but the gesture was hidden from the others and she peered up at him, seeing his mouth twitch into a smile whilst he watched the newborn baby with her parents.

"Well done," he praised.

Hermione tipped her head. "Today is a happy day," she replied, seeing Charles eyeing Arthur contemplatively.

"Why is he looking at me like that?" Arthur asked, subtly tilting his head in Charles' direction.

Hermione's mouth twitched. "I have given him the news of both his newly acquired position here and his newly owned property."

"And how did he take that?"

"It was a sight I will never forget," she replied, Arthur chuckling. "Michel, I would like for you to take a couple of weeks away from your duties to spend time with your wife and daughter. The first few weeks are always the hardest and they are both going to need your support."

"Your Highness..."

"No, I won't hear of it," she interrupted. "They need you more than I do. And the same goes for you, Emerick. Take a couple of weeks away from your duties; Michel is going to need your support, being a new parent is hard and the support of friends and family is always important."

"Your Highness..."

"No," she interrupted his reply as she had Michel's. "Michel is a new father, his protective instincts are understandable, you, however, have no excuse. I already have one overprotective Prince in my life, I do not need two overprotective guards as well."

"Yes, you do," Arthur, Michel and Emerick all unintentionally replied as one, looking to each other in surprise whilst Polly giggled, Charles smirked and Hermione sighed in annoyance.

"Men," she muttered. "I will ask King Uther if I might be assigned two temporary guards until your return."

Michel and Emerick shared a glance, neither of them looking comfortable with the idea. Hermione could understand why. They spent the majority of their time together and whilst Michel and Emerick were her guards and there for her protection, she never talked down to them as though they were inferior to her and she never treated them unkindly, if anything, she treated them as though they were her friends. Two overprotective friends, something she knew all too well. She had come to care for them and she knew they felt the same, which is why they didn't trust anyone but each other to guard her and she suspected that included Arthur, too, especially after the abduction incident, something they'd been furious about after learning what had happened.

"If you wish to protect me, do so by watching over little me," she nodded to the baby in his arms, receiving a look that contained annoyance, uncertainty and amusement. "Trust me on this, you will be thanking me once you return to your duties. I do not want you distracted or exhausted and having a young baby at home interfering with your sleep will most definitely not be beneficial when you are expected to guard me for the day, something I admit, I do make difficult."

"Your Highness..."

"Oh, I swear, you men are a massive pain in my side," Hermione huffed, throwing her hands in the hair before storming out of the hut, only to pop her head back inside moments later. "Charles, I will be by later to take you and the boys to your new home, pack anything you wish to take. I'll make you dinner and tell Kenelm his bedtime story, but I can't stay long," she said before she disappeared again.

"I like her," Polly commented amusedly as she stroked her finger down her daughter's cheek.

"She is a handful," Arthur replied, his eyes on the door she'd left out of it.

Michel and Emerick shared a surprised expression, wondering why the Prince was still there and having a casual conversation with them, something that had never happened before.

"And you wish to marry the Princess?" Emerick questioned boldly.

Arthur's eyes snapped to the personal guard, a scowl marring his features.

"How do you know that?"

He shared a glance with Michel.

"It is common knowledge amongst those in the castle, were we not supposed to know, Sire?" Michel asked in confusion.

Arthur released a breath and ran his hand through his hair. "Does Hermione know?"

"I don't believe so, Sire. The Princess is not one to take notice of or participate in rumours or idle gossip."

"Good, that's good," he muttered. "Congratulations on the birth of your child, and I will personally ensure that Hermione's replacement guards are more than capable of ensuring her safety."

"Sire? If I might suggest, perhaps someone who will not be afraid to say no to something that is too dangerous for her," Emerick suggested, sharing a knowing glance with Michel.

Arthur nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, Hermione is quite stubborn, isn't she? Perhaps I will ask two of my Knights to guard her, they are not afraid of her."

"They are," Michel and Emerick disagreed.

Charles snorted as he busied with cleaning up the hut and Arthur's mouth twitched in amusement.

"Possibly Sirs Leon and Geraint," Arthur mused.

"No, Sire. Sir Leon is highly likely to get injured; he has a penchant for teasing the Princess on her height, something she does not take kindly. And Sir Geraint, he often teases Akela, I fear if you put them in close quarters, he may be eaten."

"Is that really such a loss?" Arthur replied, seeing the stunned expressions of those in the room, something he found amusing. What, because he was a Prince he couldn't make a joke? "Sir Brennis, he is too weak-willed against Hermione, Sir Bertrand whilst good in a fight, is getting older and might not be able to keep up with Hermione. Sir Montague, despite his size and appearance, would fold under her stare..." Arthur released a sigh. "She does not make protecting her easy," he commented, Michel and Emerick nodding in agreement and Charles released a snort. "I will have to give them some serious consideration." He shook his head. "Once again, congratulations on the birth of your daughter and I will ensure Hermione is well guarded, even if I have to do so myself."

~000~000~000~

"Sir Osric, what are you doing here? Where is the Princess?" Arthur asked, eyeing the older Knight accusingly when he avoided his gaze and shifted on his feet.

He cleared his throat and lifted his head, still not meeting his eye. "We lost her, Sire."

"Excuse me?" He questioned slowly.

"We lost her in the marketplace. Sir Robert is still searching for her."

Arthur was furious.

~000~000~000~

"Sirs Oldof, Radnor, is there any particular reason you are here and not with the Princess?" Arthur asked lightly, already dreading the answer.

They shared a glance before looking to him, their hands resting atop their swords as they tried not to shift on their feet.

"We lost her, Sire."

"Excuse me?"

"We lost her in the woods. She said she needed to gather some ingredients for her remedies. We lost sight of her and could not find her but she does have her wolf with her."

Arthur wasn't sure who he wanted to kill more, Hermione or his Knights.

~000~000~000~

"Sire?"

Arthur halted in his steps climbing the stairs to the entrance doors of the castle and he turned around, seeing Sirs Aldus and Conan quickly approaching.

Arthur's eyes closed briefly and he released a slow, steady breath.

"Where is the Princess?"

They looked to one another nervously.

"We are not entirely sure, Sire," Sir Aldus admitted.

"She wished to check on the progress of the orphanage, we passed through the marketplace and lost her in the crowd," explained Sir Conan.

Arthur had a headache forming.

~000~000~000~

"Sirs Ranulf, Nigel, what is your excuse for losing the Princess?" Arthur asked knowingly, even if he hadn't recognised the guilty expressions they wore, there was a pattern building and it had only been four days since Hermione's personal guards had been given time away from their duties. He was certain he'd have gone insane by the time they returned. He was quickly running out of Knights.

"Sire?" They questioned.

"Don't lie to me," Arthur narrowed his eyes.

They shared a glance before their shoulders slumped.

"She was playing with the children in the lower city. She was teaching them to play hide and seek, she asked if we would count to fifty whilst they hid and we would go in search of them. We found all of the children..."

"But not the Princess," the other Knight finished.

"Give me a break," Arthur groaned.

She was the most infuriating woman he'd ever met. Brilliant, but infuriating.

~000~000~000~

Arthur had just mounted his horse, having every intention of spending the day hunting in the woods with only his loud-mouthed and clumsy-footed manservant Merlin, when he dropped Llameri's reins and brought his hands up to rub at his temples at the sight of two of his Knights approaching gingerly.

"Where did you last see her?" He asked knowingly.

"In the heart of the city, Sire," answered Sir Godfrey.

"She wished to make dinner for her charges so it would be ready for when they returned home," Sir Oswaine finished.

"Merlin, change of plans," sighed Arthur, deliberately ignoring his manservant's snickers and his Knights' apologetic expressions as he rode past them, his destination not the woods but the heart of the city.

~000~000~000~

"You folded, didn't you?" Arthur folded his arms over his chest after setting down his quill, leaning back into his chair as he sat at his desk and Sirs Montague and Brennis stood before him in his chambers.

"I apologise, Sire," Sir Montague looked down at the ground sheepishly. "She gave me the look."

"The look?" Arthur arched his eyebrow.

"Yes, Sire, _the look_. She looked like a wounded puppy, I couldn't refuse her."

Arthur's eyes darted to Sir Brennis, seeing him nodding guiltily in agreement.

Arthur rolled his eyes, this time he only had himself to blame. Why he thought to put Sirs Montague and Brennis together as Hermione's guards was beyond him. He could've made a better choice, not that he had many Knights left, that is.

~000~000~000~

"And your excuse for losing the Princess?" Arthur asked lightly.

Sirs Davie and Bertrand looked to one another and then back to him, both of them red in the cheeks, sweat having formed on the foreheads and they still looked to be struggling to breathe.

"In our defence, we did not lose the Princess. We know she is in the woods," said Sir Davie.

Arthur arched an eyebrow. "What happened?"

"Akela saw a rabbit and chased it into the woods. The Princess followed him but we couldn't catch her, she is _really_ fast," said Sir Bertrand.

Arthur rolled his eyes, he knew he shouldn't have put the two eldest Knights on Hermione's protection detail.

~000~000~000~

"What has she done now?"

"She was playing with her youngest charge by the medical hut, we lost sight of them and could not find them," said Sir Robert whilst Sir Nigel nodded in agreement.

Arthur had hoped that changing up the combination would make a difference, he was wrong.

"Sir Nigel, have you not already fallen for such a tactic?" Arthur questioned, the Knight nodding guiltily. Arthur sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Well, now she is just becoming predictable."

He was a little disappointed.

~000~000~000~

"Sir Leon, why are you limping?" Arthur cocked an eyebrow, his mouth twitching in amusement, already knowing the answer. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear that," he said after Sir Leon's mumbled response.

"The Princess stomped on my foot and kicked me in both shins," he confessed grumpily.

Arthur blinked slowly in surprise. "Why?"

"I may have teased her," he admitted.

Arthur turned his eyes to Sir Geraint, seeing he was cradling his hand to his chest.

"And you, Sir Geraint, what happened?"

"Akela bit me," he muttered.

"I'm sorry?" He questioned. Akela had not bitten anyone in Camelot. Well, except for Thorley Harte but that was understandable.

"He _nipped_ him," Sir Leon corrected, rolling his eyes. "He offered cheese to him but pulled it away three times before Akela nipped him in warning."

Arthur's eyes darted between their grumpy expressions before he suddenly burst into uncontrollable laughter, finding it hard to stop.

He had to give it to her, she was certainly amusing. He couldn't get the image of Hermione kicking Sir Leon or Akela nipping at Sir Geraint in warning out of his head, the imagery feeding his laughter. He wasn't worried for Hermione's safety; he'd seen her enter the castle before he'd approached his Knights and both she and her wolf had looked far too pleased with themselves, now he knew why and it was honestly brilliant.

He finally managed to calm himself, not missing their scowls at him taking joy in their pain.

"Go see Gaius, get yourselves looked at."

"That's not necessary," Sir Geraint protested.

Arthur's mouth twitched. "Do not worry, I will not tell any other Knight what happened."

"That's a promise?" Questioned Sir Leon.

"It is," Arthur nodded.

The moment they headed for the physician's chambers, Arthur found Merlin and told him what had happened. The news has spread throughout the entire castle and to the rest of the Knights within the hour.

He had kept his promise. He hadn't told another _Knight_ , but his manservant who had a penchant for gossip. And at dinner that evening, he'd given extra cheese to the wolf sat in-between his and Hermione's chair.

~000~000~000~

"Hermione, you cannot keep doing this," Arthur sighed tiredly.

Doing what, Arthur?" She questioned, smiling angelically.

"Slipping your guard detail, they are there for a reason."

"It's not my fault they are unable to keep up with me," she argued, the both of them bickering back and forth as they stepped into the banquet hall and took their seats at the table, neither of them acknowledging King Uther or Morgana.

"Hermione..." He said, exasperated.

"Yes, Arthur?" She tipped her head, smiling innocently.

"Give me strength," he muttered, looking to the ceiling before turning his eyes to her. "You have to stop."

"As I said, it is not my fault."

"It's for your safety," he argued.

"Then perhaps they best take their responsibilities more seriously," she shrugged.

Arthur made a sound of irritation before they both looked to King Uther after he cleared his throat, his expression was blank but his eyes showed amusement.

"And what are we discussing this evening?" He inquired.

Arthur sent an annoyed glance to Hermione and then turned back to his father.

"Father, Hermione has slipped her guards every day for the last eleven days. I no longer have any viable options left, so has evaded each and every one of my Knights, some of them twice," he explained.

King Uther looked to Hermione and she smiled innocently.

"It is not my fault, Your Grace."

"No?" He questioned, unable to hide his amusement in his tone.

"No," she confirmed. "They lost sight of me in the marketplace, they were unable to find me when I was playing hide and seek with the children, they were unable to keep up with me when I was forced to chase Akela into the woods."

"You hid deliberately," Arthur argued.

"Of course I did," Hermione replied, "That is the object of the game, to hide while another searches for you. It is not my fault they were unable to find me," she smiled. "Perhaps your Knights can benefit from some tactical training and perhaps you should ensure their fitness, too."

Arthur blinked slowly as Morgana burst into giggles and his father laughed, actually laughed.

"I will see to it, Princess," King Uther tipped his head. "It is my understanding your personal guards are due to return in four days, perhaps you might not purposely hide from your guards for the remainder of the duration."

Arthur sent his father a thankful expression and then looked to her smugly.

Hermione simply smiled. "I have to confess, Your Grace, I visited with Michel this morning, his wife and daughter as doing well, and when I saw how happily exhausted they were, I granted both Michel and Emerick a further week away from their duties."

Arthur's forehead banged against the surface of the table when he slumped forward in his seat, groaning in annoyance.

"How generous of you, Princess," King Uther replied, giving her an amused glance and then looking to his son disapprovingly for his behaviour at the dinner table.

How Michel and Emerick were able to contend with Hermione, Arthur didn't know, but he'd be sure to get some pointers from them for future reference, and he made a mental note to increase their wage. Anyone who could handle Hermione as well as they did, deserved it. His Knights could barely last an hour, and here Michel and Emerick did it every day and had been doing so for a little over three months.

~000~000~000~

"Sire! Sire!"

Arthur paused mid-strike before he lowered his sword, seeing Sir Robert quickly crossing the training grounds.

A week had passed since Hermione had been made to promise to not slip her guards and to prevent her from doing that, she was not only now guarded by _three_ Knights, but they rotated every few hours making it harder for her to wear them down or successfully evade them. She'd tried, of course, but that added extra guard helped keep her in sight, Arthur was just glad there were only five days left before Michel and Emerick returned and his Knights could return to their normal duties.

"What is it, Sir Robert?" Arthur questioned, seeing the other Knight being red in the face and out of breath, obviously from running as whatever he wished to say must have been deemed important. The expression he wore when he paused was a mixture of pain as he struggled to regain his breath and excitement, so it wasn't bad news, Arthur deducted.

"Sire, they have been seen approaching Camelot," Sir Robert breathed out.

"They?" He frowned in confusion.

"Yes, Sire, they carry banners of red and gold with the emblem of a lion."

Arthur froze, his sword falling from his grasp in shock. No, it couldn't be, could it? It had only been a little over three months since the riders had been sent to deliver the missive; it wasn't possible for them to have returned so soon, especially with _him_. He hadn't expected him to come in person at all but he supposed that was his own mistake, of course, if he had a daughter or Granddaughter as beautiful and brilliant as Hermione, he'd want to meet the one asking for her hand in marriage, too.

Arthur froze for a second time; he was going to _meet_ her Grandfather, the one person who held his future in his hands.

"How many approach?"

"No fewer than twenty, Sire. And I must warn you, they are not riding horses but a strange..."

"It's a hippogriff," he interrupted knowingly. Sir Robert looked surprised and confused as did the others that had grouped closer to him. "Hermione said they don't ride horses in her Kingdom, they ride hippogriffs, a magical creature which is half-eagle, half-horse."

"Well, they do accept and welcome magic," mused Sir Leon as she scratched at his chin thoughtfully, "So that isn't too surprising, I suppose. Now that I think about it, it explains so much, particularly why she is unable to ride a horse or why she seems uncomfortable around them in general."

Arthur looked down at himself, seeing his white shirt and dark breeches before he realised he was going to meet Hermione's Grandfather, he had to change and quickly.

"How long before they arrive?"

"Within the hour, Sire."

Arthur's eyes widened before he bent to retrieve his fallen sword, sheathed it and then took off in a run, ignoring the teasing calls and comments that followed after him.

~000~000~000~

Arthur sat in the throne room beside his father, doing his best to contain his nerves and not fidget in his seat. He'd reached his chambers after running through the grounds and castle, seeing the flurry of movement of the servants as word spread that a visiting King was expected very soon and thankfully no one had paid him any mind.

He'd called for Merlin and after having a quick wash and Arthur snapping at his manservant one too many times after his teasing comments about what was to come, Arthur had dressed in a red shirt and black breeches and boots, his red cape adorning the golden dragon was fastened around his neck and his golden crown sat atop his head. The moment he'd entered the throne room and approached his throne his father had glanced at him, nodding in approval before gesturing for him to take his seat.

Morgana sat on the other side of his father, dressed in green with her hair pulled back and secured at the nape of her neck whilst his father also wore red and black, his crown and jewellery all gold. The Knights of Camelot all wore their formal armour and cape and stood along the walls of the throne room, their posture perfect, their hands resting atop their swords and facing forward, looking at nothing in particular.

He wasn't exactly sure where Hermione was but she'd been sent for, this was something Arthur did not want her to miss. She was going to be reunited with her Grandfather, the only living family she had left.

The large doors opened and Arthur struggled between remaining in his seat and standing, wishing to show the visiting royal some respect but given it was him who was the host, he did not have to.

"I present to you, His Majesty, King Godric Gryffindor of Gryffindor city and co-ruler of the Kingdom of Hogwarts."

Arthur was not entirely sure what he'd been expecting but it certainly wasn't the man, the _King_ that seemed to float into the room, his eyes briefly darting about his surroundings before landing on him and his father.

Arthur knew he wasn't the smallest man he'd seen but neither was he the tallest, but with his broad shoulders and chest, it more than made up for it. His hair, a shade lighter than Hermione's but with a tint of copper, fell in waves down to his shoulders, it looking a little frizzy, exactly the way he'd seen Hermione's go when she was stressed or it was a little too warm. His moustache and beard were neatly groomed, the tip of his beard reaching to his sternum, his nose whilst bigger than most suited his face and his eyes, the same shade of brown as Hermione's. He was dressed in a ruby-red tunic, a golden belt fitted around his stomach with black breeches beneath tucked into black boots. A red and golden cape depicting a roaring lion on the back hung around his shoulders, and the most noticeable thing of all, he carried a sword that looked to be the twin of the one in Hermione's rooms.

Arthur had never believed Hermione to have been lying to him about her identity despite his father's warnings but looking to the King before him now, he felt hope fill him. There were too many similarities to ignore.

"King Godric," his father greeted, Arthur seeing the way he eyed him curiously over the fact he was not wearing a crown as most Kings did, particularly for formal occasions such as this one. "I am Uther Pendragon, King of Camelot. This is my son, Prince Arthur, and this is Lady Morgana, my ward," he introduced.

"Your Grace," King Godric's voice was deeper than Arthur had expected. "I would introduce to you those who I deem close to my heart, sadly, they did not travel with me on this journey."

"If you don't mind my asking," Arthur started, seeing his father looking to him curiously, "But how did you travel to Camelot so quickly. We were informed it was a three months' journey south to reach your Kingdom, it has been a little over that since the rider's departed."

King Godric arched an eyebrow at the news, seeming surprised by the information but Arthur didn't comment on it.

"Well, my young Prince, I was not in my Kingdom. Your riders unintentionally stumbled upon my riding party upon our return to Hogwarts and we made a detour to Camelot."

"We thank you for coming so quickly," his father tipped his head. "Before we begin on the reason behind our missive, please know that you and your party are welcome in Camelot and rooms are being prepared as we speak so you might rest before your departure."

"Thank you, I appreciate your hospitality," King Godric replied. "Please, why was a missive sent?"

"You have not read it?" Arthur blinked in surprise.

"No," he smiled. "Not only do I prefer to handle my business and affairs in person, but I also admit that I accidentally lost it during our travels."

Arthur wasn't sure if he should be amused or horrified by that news. How could King Godric lose such an important missive, one that held details of a potential union between their Kingdoms?

"There is only one question I wish to ask of you," his father stated, keeping his gaze locked with King Godric's, the man was unfazed. "Do you have a Granddaughter?"

"Excuse me?" King Godric blinked in surprise.

Arthur felt his stomach twist painfully, losing a small amount of hope at that reaction.

"Do you have a Granddaughter?" He repeated.

Arthur held his breath as King Godric opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted when Hermione appeared in the doorway, stepping into the throne room with Akela by her side, eyeing the twenty or so unfamiliar men cautiously, and with Sirs Leon, Geraint and Conan following behind her.

"You summoned me, Your Grace?" She asked confused, her eyes darting about the many unfamiliar faces as she clasped her hands in front of her stomach and returned her gaze to him and his father, seeing that he was obviously dressed formally for a reason. He tried to give her a reassuring smile but thought it likely looked more like a grimace.

"Yes, I did," his father replied, not referring to Hermione as 'Princess' as he usually would. "Please halt where you are."

Her brow furrowing into a frown, Hermione paused in her approach, stopping directly in line with King Godric. Akela stopped beside her, his side brushing her leg and the Knights halted behind her, automatically falling into position to mimic the other Knights in the room.

His father watched Hermione carefully before turning his gaze back to King Godric.

"King Godric..." his father started.

Arthur felt his whole world crashing down around him as he gripped the armrests of his throne tightly, seeing Hermione's eyes widen in horror and her already pale complexion paling until she looked sickly.

"Is this young woman your Granddaughter? Is she Princess Hermione Gryffindor?"


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 19

Her heart dropped into her stomach, her head swam with dizziness and she felt bile rise up in her throat, threatening to be released.

Never before had she felt such horror or terror, not in her childhood, not during the war, not during her capture and torture in Malfoy Manor and not when she found herself stuck in the past, for Godric Gryffindor stood beside her.

There was no denying it was the great and powerful Founder of her beloved school. She'd recognise him anywhere having seen his portrait hanging in the Gryffindor common room every day of her school life. Whilst it was clear he was younger than when his portrait had been commissioned (with the lack of wrinkles in his forehead and around his eyes, Hermione being reminded that wizards aged slower than muggles) it was definitely him.

What was he doing there? How had he known to come to Camelot? King Uther hadn't seemed that surprised at his presence, so he'd known? Contacted him possibly? But that can't have been possible. Hogwarts couldn't be seen by muggles and Hermione had deliberately told them the wrong direction of travel to reach it as an added precaution, and she'd been unsuccessful.

She couldn't even be mad herself, she was too busy feeling the panic and fear that coursed through her. King Uther was going to discover the truth, Arthur would hate her and she'd be sentenced for death. She'd come so far, she'd survived the war and had managed to build a life for herself in the past and now, she'd be dead by tomorrow lunchtime. But Hermione didn't fear death, she'd had one too many near misses over the years and just as the Third Brother had in the Deathly Hallows, Hermione would make peace and welcome death as an old friend.

She steeled herself, her body straightening stiffly, her mouth closing and she lifted her chin proudly. She wasn't ashamed of what she'd done; it was a matter of her survival.

She turned her eyes to Godric Gryffindor, seeing the way a frown had settled on his forehead and he focused gaze carefully examined her, for her appearance right to her posture and behaviour. His eyes, a similar shade to hers she noticed, seemed to widen in surprise and he took a half step towards her before halting, hesitating. Giving his head a shake, he closed the distance between them, Hermione tipping her head back to keep eye contact with him as she briefly noted Akela releasing a growl of warning, his side brushing her leg when he shifted into a defensive position.

It felt like an eternity had passed as they locked gazes but was only a matter of moments before he took a step back and his eyes fell down to her wolf, his eyebrow arching questioningly and without fear or hesitation, he lifted his hand from resting atop his sword and slowly brought it down, pressing it to Akela's head in-between his ears. Hermione blinked slowly when her overprotective wolf immediately calmed, lowering himself until he lay against the ground by her feet, the atmosphere in the large room being tense and thick as everyone present watched the scene in surprise.

Godric returned his hand to his sword before taking a few more steps backwards, his gaze returning to Hermione.

"King Godric, _is_ she your Granddaughter?" King Uther pressed, his gaze flying between them and the peaceful wolf on the ground.

"You look so much like your mother," Godric breathed out, Hermione once more feeling her eyes widen in surprise and a twisting in her stomach.

"King Godric," the King called, it being evident that he was losing his patience.

Silence filled the room as he kept his eyes on Hermione.

"No."

Hermione's eyes closed. She was going to die. She couldn't bear to see Arthur's heartbroken expression.

"But I do have a _daughter_ , one I have not seen since she was but a young babe."

Hermione's eyes flew open and she felt herself sway on her feet, her gaze darting to Arthur's surprised expression and King Uther's suspicious one.

"A daughter?" Arthur questioned hopefully, a smile threatening to pull at his mouth as he leaned forward in his throne.

"Yes. My wife unexpectedly fell pregnant many years after the birth of my son, we'd tried for another child but came to understand it was not meant to be. When my daughter was born, it was a miracle but Hogwarts was at war and my son had already reached maturity and married. For the safety and protection of my daughter, I tasked my son with taking her far away from the conflict so he might raise her as his own daughter, not his sister."

"You say this woman, Hermione, is your daughter?" King Uther questioned.

"Yes, she _is_ my daughter, Princess Hermione, my heir."

Hermione stumbled back, almost tripping over her own feet. Her wide gaze darted between Godric, Arthur and King Uther before her vision swam with darkness and she felt herself sway.

~000~000~000~

"Hermione!"

Arthur's heart dropped in his stomach as her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she collapsed to the ground, Arthur instinctively springing from his seat in an attempt to reach her before she hit the stone floor despite him knowing it was futile. Thankfully, Sir Leon leapt into action, reaching out and catching her, gently lowering her to the ground.

"I believe she is fine, Sire," Sir Leon spoke once Arthur knelt down beside her, his expression one of worry and surprise. "She fainted. I believe the news of her parentage may have overwhelmed her."

Arthur thought that was more than understandable and not caring for his audience, he reached out, gently pushing her hair back from her face.

"And you are sure _she_ is your daughter? As you said yourself, you have not seen her since she was a young babe."

Arthur barely stopped himself from glaring at his father. What more proof did he need? He had the confirmation of Hermione's royal status from the King himself, despite them discovering she was his daughter, not his Granddaughter, something that had not been expected. She was in the possession of a sword that mirrored the one strapped to King Godric's hip. The man himself had spoken of her resemblance to her mother and Arthur had seen that he and Hermione had shared the same eye colour and unruliness of the hair.

"Yes, I am sure," he replied, looking down at Hermione, his expression softening in a way that spoke of fatherly love and concern. "She is the double of her mother, that cannot be faked. And she is my daughter, no matter how many years have passed or how much she has grown, I am certain I would always be able to recognise her. She is as beautiful as her mother, just as I knew she would be when I held her for the first time."

The King leaned back into his chair, Arthur noting the way his posture relaxed a smile played at his mouth before his gaze darted to him, giving him a single nod. Arthur released the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

"The Princess has told us of the war you faced, why did you not search for her?"

"When I sent her away, I did so knowing that the possibility of reuniting with her would be exceptionally low. I did not expect to survive the war and when I did and we prevailed, I was unsure of her whereabouts or if she was alive, knowing that my son and his wife had died. I assumed she had perished alongside them. It seems it is Fate that you should find my daughter and reunite us and for that, King Uther, I will forever be grateful and I will forever be in your debt. Thank you for ensuring her health and well-being."

King Uther tipped his head in acknowledgement. "The Princess is truly one of a kind and she will always be welcome in Camelot, I believe she considers this to be her home, she has done some truly remarkable things for the citizens of Camelot."

King Godric's eyes darted to Hermione, his expression hard to read due to the sheer number of emotions that flittered through his gaze and Arthur cleared his throat, not asking for his father's permission regarding his next decision.

"Sir Leon, please take Princess Hermione to her chambers."

"Yes, Sire," he replied, carefully lifting Hermione into his arms before he rose to his feet, turned on his heel and left the throne room, being followed by Akela and Sirs Geraint and Conan.

Arthur rose to full height and turned to face his father, giving him a pointed look, one his father understood as he nodded.

"King Godric, later this evening there will be a feast in your honour, a celebration of reuniting a father with his lost child but until then, perhaps you might wish to visit with your daughter, I imagine you have quite the conversation to be had."

"Thank you, King Uther," he replied, tipping his head.

"Merlin, show King Godric to Hermione's chambers and send word to the kitchens to have tea sent," Arthur instructed.

"Yes, Sire," his manservant replied, stepping out from behind his throne and exiting the room with King Godric following after him.

"I will have the servants show you to your rooms," his father spoke to the other men from King Godric's riding party and with a wave of his hand, several servants appeared from the shadows, guiding them out of the throne room until it was only the Knights, himself, his father, Morgana and Guinevere left in attendance.

"And so the Princess spoke the truth of her parentage, _mostly_ ," his father added.

"You doubted her," Arthur commented, unable to keep his disapproval from showing.

"We must always be on our guard, Arthur, I will not apologise for not trusting the Princess' claims no matter that we now know she had not been lying, and I will say no more on the matter. We must allow time for the Princess to process what was revealed this day and for her to spend some time with her true father. Until then, we will not make mention of our wishes of a union between you and the Princess."

"Yes, Father," Arthur reluctantly agreed.

He'd been waiting months to receive a reply to their missive and now that King Godric had unexpectedly visited, he'd wanted to get it all out of the way so he could begin making plans for his future, a future with Hermione by his side. But he reminded himself that he couldn't be selfish, Hermione had learned some truly difficult news and the King had just discovered that his daughter who he hadn't seen in almost two decades was alive and well and all grown up. He could wait a few more days whilst they spent some time together.

~000~000~000~

There was a dull throbbing in her head and the moment her eyes opened, they automatically closed against the too-bright light, it taking a moment or two for her to adjust to her surroundings. She recognised the softness of the mattress and bedding beneath her and knew she was in her chambers, but how has she gotten there?

Releasing a groan, she pushed herself into a seating position, shuffling back until she propped herself against the pillows and her head snapped to the side when she heard movement, a gentle clatter. Her eyes widened at the sight of Godric Gryffindor, casually perched in a chair by her bedside and a steaming cup of tea held in his hand.

"Ah, you have woken," he observed, his eyes carefully examining her the same way they had in the throne room. It was almost as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, closed it, swallowed and then tried again.

"Why did you lie? How did you know of the war I spoke of? Why are you here?"

He tipped his head slightly, taking a rather delicate sip of his tea before setting it down on the bedside table.

"That," he answered, nodding in the direction of the Gryffindor Sword that was mounted on the wall by the door, "And you. I have waited a very long time to meet you."

"Excuse me?" She spluttered.

His mouth tugged in amusement. "I felt the magic of my sword call to me. It drew me here. When I looked into your eyes, I am not ashamed to admit I scoured through your memories, such a difficult life you've had, little cub," his voice softened, sounding almost saddened. "I know everything." Her mouth opened to respond but he spoke over her. "Not to worry, I saw only what I needed to, the secrets of the future are safe. As for why I lied about your identity, I did not."

"I don't understand," Hermione's brow furrowed in confusion. She could already feel a headache forming.

"From what I saw in your memories, the future is quite aware that I had a son and yes, he did die young, coincidentally, around the time of your arrival in this time. But, it seems it is not known that I did have a daughter."

Hermione's frown deepened and she folded her hands in her lap, twisting her fingers into the fabric of her dress distractedly.

"She had barely lived before I lost her to illness. When I laid her to rest, my wife, Lillian, a woman who had the rare gift of premonition, made a vow that my daughter would one day return to me."

"That I understand, but I don't understand what that has to do with me," Hermione replied.

His mouth tugged into a smile. "Do you believe in the magic of reincarnation?"

"Yes," she answered honestly, her eyes darting over to Akela as he lay by the unlit fireplace in his pile of blankets, sleeping peacefully. "Yes, I do."

His features seemed to soften slightly as he gave her a pointed look, as if he wanted her to understand what he was trying to tell her without him having to speak the words.

"It is quite the coincidence that my daughter was named Hermione, too, don't you think?"

Hermione's gaze fell to the ground, staring at the grey stone unflinchingly before his words, spoken and not, slammed into her like a tonne of bricks. Her head snapped up to meet his gaze.

"No," she breathed out.

"Yes," he disagreed.

"But... But that's not possible!" She whisper-hissed.

"Yes, it is. Magic is magic, it cannot be explained or understood, it is neither good nor bad, it just is. And because of magic, my daughter, _you_ , have returned to me."

"I don't believe it. I can't! _What_ am I doing here? _How_ did I get here?"

"My wife had two visions. One of your return, one of your death. I knew not where you were or more precisely _when_ you were but I knew I could not lose you again. My wife grew ill several years after your death and before she crossed over, I vowed to bring you home. I wanted a place of peace, of home and safety. A place you might learn of your inherited magic and how to control it safely. You, little cub, are the reason behind my founding of Hogwarts with the others. I did it for you. The school you loved so much, was built for _you_."

Hermione's mouth dropped open and her head swam with dizziness, and she dug her fingernails through the fabric of her dress and into her thigh, helping to ground her before she fainted. Once was quite enough for one day.

"After ensuring you had a home to return to, with the aid of Rowena, one of the most truly brilliant magical practitioners I have ever met, we spent many years searching for a way to bring you home. Rowena, having a daughter herself, didn't wish to see me lose mine again. And it was two years ago that we felt we had succeeded. With the help of Helga and Salazar, we were able to focus our magical energy and perform the ritual. I had expected for you to arrive at Hogwarts, in the chambers I had made especially for you, but when you did not appear, I knew something had gone wrong. I have since spent the majority of my time sending creatures and owls in search of you. I have never before felt such relief when I felt the pull of my magic from my sword, or when a young hippogriff returned to Hogwarts, surrounded by the essence of your magic."

Hermione's eyes widened a fraction, realising that the hippogriff she and Arthur had seen all those weeks ago, it had come from Hogwarts after deliberately searching for her. That was why she'd wanted Hermione to fly with her, likely so she could take her to Hogwarts.

"This is a lot to take in," she muttered, bringing her hands up to her temples.

As if, Hermione had purposely been brought back through time and to the past because she was the reincarnated daughter of Godric Gryffindor!

"Yes, I am sure it is," he replied sympathetically.

"But how can you be sure that I am who you say I am? How do you know that you didn't accidentally bring back the wrong person?"

His head tilted slightly to the right and he pursed his lips in thought. "Although my daughter died young, she had barely reached her second year of life and she resembled her mother in complexion and they shared the same mouth shape and the same button nose. No matter how many duties or responsibilities I had that needed seeing to, I never missed the nightly routine of reading to my daughter until she fell asleep, I was always the last thing she saw before sleep took her. I would recognise the sparkle in her eyes anywhere, the same sparkle that you possess. Not only are you physically similar to my Lillian but your magical energy is similar to mine, it contains the Gryffindor family magical energy."

"Excuse me?" She frowned.

Godric shifted in his seat before he leaned forward, holding his hands out palms up expectantly. Observing them cautiously, she slowly reached out and set her hands in his and the moment she did so, she felt her entire body relaxing, sinking back into the pillows behind her and a soft sigh slipped past her lips as her eyes fluttered closed.

The slight chill in the room suddenly faded as Hermione was surrounded by a comforting warmth and safety, it brushing over her exposed skin like a summer's breeze, goosebumps erupting over her arms and it seemed to settle around her heart, warming her from the inside out.

"That is the family magics," Godric explained, his voice soft as though he didn't wish to interrupt her. "You _are_ my daughter, Hermione."

The moment broken, Hermione pulled her hands away from him and fisted them in her dress, burying down the urge to reach out for him and feel the warmth and comfort once more.

"I need a moment," she said quietly, avoiding his gaze.

"Of course," he acquiesced, nodding.

A moment became a few, which became minutes, which became a long while of silence and despite the time that had passed, Hermione needed more. She needed help.

"Akela," she called softly, her wolf slowly lifting his head from his paws, blinking lazily.

Without saying anything more, he stood, bowed his back as he stretched and then padded over to her bed, leaping onto the mattress and sitting beside her, Hermione soon wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his fur.

Akela had never before been on her bed, both in Ealdor and Camelot. He wasn't forbidden from resting or sleeping on it but he'd never before shown any interest, Hermione wondering if that was something to do with William's influence but the majority of the time, Akela seemed to be mostly wolf.

She was not quite sure how long had passed and Godric never once tried to interrupt her thought process or coping measure of clinging to her wolf, but she was grateful for both the silence and the wolf that had yet to move despite Hermione knowing his current position can't have been comfortable for him.

She hadn't realised she'd been crying until she felt the damp fur beneath her cheek and she did her best to wipe her face as subtly as possible. Knowing she really ought to pull herself together and accept the situation for what it was, Hermione took several calming breaths and lifted her face from Akela's fur, unwinding her arms from around him. Her wolf did not climb from the bed as she'd expected him to but rather he laid beside her, partially sprawling across her lap, of which she was grateful for as she buried her hands in his fur, giving her hands something to do to stop her from fidgeting.

"How are you feeling, little cub?"

Hermione's breathing halted for a moment before she breathed out slowly and shook her head and then turned her eyes to him.

"Overwhelmed, confused, conflicted, exhausted..." She trailed off before steeling her nerves for what she was about to say. "I do not want to upset you and I hope you do not take my next words too harshly... But, you are _not_ my father. My father was named Richard Granger, I was born to him and Jean Granger. They were both dentists... Teeth healers... They taught me to read and write, they took me to school every day, they read to me at night, comforted me when I fell or injured myself, allowed me to crawl into their bed when I had a bad dream. Whilst I may look like your late wife and I may possess the spirit and magical energy of your daughter, I am _not_ her."

He kept his expression annoyingly blank, she thought.

"That I understand, after observing your memories, the experiences in your life, I understand that you had parents who loved you very much, who raised you with love and kindness. I understand that I am not your father, and you are not my _daughter_ , but you are still my daughter in spirit. I know that I can never take the place of the man that raised you but now that I have found you, I hope that you will allow me to be in your life."

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"You pulled me from my time, from my life, from the people I loved, and you brought me to a time of which I had no knowledge of, I had no family, no home and no connections. I was stranded and forced to do the best I could to survive."

"I couldn't let you die, not _again_. I am sorry the ritual did not work as I had intended, I wished to bring you home to safety and as luck would have it, you landed in a Kingdom that forbids the use of magic."

Hermione found her mouth twitching in amusement. "Yes, it has been rather difficult keeping my secret but I have allies."

"Oh?"

Hermione nibbled her lip, wondering if she should reveal the truth of Merlin, but then perhaps he could help him whilst he was in Camelot. Godric could teach Merlin more in a week than she could in her lifetime.

"In the future, there is a well-known Sorcerer that is said to be one of the most powerful magical practitioners to have ever existed." His eyebrow arched in both curiosity and a gesture for her to continue. "His name is Merlin and he is Prince Arthur's manservant, and he is a very good friend of mine. Merlin practices magic of the Old Religion, using it to secretly protect the Prince from harm," she explained and Godric nodded, not looking surprised. "He knows of my magic just as he knows I know of his but he has had no formal tutoring on the practices of magic. As I'm sure you've seen, I did attend Hogwarts and since my arrival in Camelot, I have been doing my best to teach Merlin everything I possibly can but with the differences in our magic, it is difficult. He is too old to attend Hogwarts himself and I don't believe he would wish to leave the Prince unprotected should he be allowed to attend..." She trailed off, nibbling at her lip.

"Is there something you wish to ask me?" He asked amused.

She cleared her throat. "Well... You are also said to be one of the most powerful practitioners to have existed, and if you wouldn't be opposed to it, I was wondering if you might consider helping Merlin with his control whilst you are here? I am not as powerful as Merlin and as I said, there is only so much I can teach him. The magics I know are from future discoveries and inventions, the magics from this time have long since been forgotten, you could teach Merlin more than I ever could, of course, it would have to be done in secret. I have told King Uther that Hogwarts is a Kingdom, not a school of magic, which is why he believes you to be a King. I explained that Hogwarts welcomes magic but not that I possess magic, so you might wish to keep your own magic a secret to avoid conflict," she rambled and his mouth twitched in amusement.

"Little cub, if you say he is powerful and untrained, it would be dangerous _not_ to offer him aid. For the duration of my time here, however long that may be, I will speak with him and see if we might find time to work with one another."

"Thank you," she breathed.

He tipped his head. "There is not much I wouldn't do for you, anything you wish, all you must do is ask." Hermione cleared her throat and shifted. "Why is he protecting the young Prince?" He asked curiously.

Hermione nibbled her lip once more, "Well, Prince Arthur is destined for greatness, something I _know_ to be true. The Legends of King Arthur and his Knights is well known throughout my time, and Merlin is known for being his protector and his most trusted advisor. This time period is known as the 5th century, I am from the 20th century."

Godric frowned slightly. "I had not realised just how far into the future you were born, nor had I expected you to be so young," he gave his head a shake.

She shrugged, there was nothing that could be done about it now... Unless...

"Is there a way to send me back?" She asked, doing her best to squash down any hope she might feel so she wouldn't be too disappointed if he confirmed her suspicions.

"No," he offered her a comforting smile. "The magics that brought you here cannot be replicated or repeated, and they cannot be reversed or altered to send you back."

Hermione nodded, having already known the answer and she ran her hand through the fur on Akela's head, the wolf's eyes closing sleepily.

"You have a bond unlike any I have ever seen," Godric commented, watching her interactions with her wolf intriguingly.

"He is the reason I believe in reincarnation," she confessed, his eyebrow arching questioningly. "When I first arrived in this time, I was injured after fighting in battle..." She saw his eyes harden and wondered if he knew of what she meant and if he didn't, if he would later ask her to clarify. "I was found by a young man who took me to safety and ensured I received medical aid. When I was healed, I stayed in the village and he became my best friend, a brother, someone I loved and someone I trusted not only with my life but with my secret of magic. I met Prince Arthur and Merlin when they came to the aid of the village as we had a bandit problem. My friend, William, was Merlin's best friend from childhood before he left to Camelot to serve the Prince, and he gave his life to save Prince Arthur's. Three days after his death, I stumbled upon Akela injured and healed him and a bond between us formed. I know from future research that some wolves are drawn to magic users and that is what I'd thought had happened, but then I started noticing things, little things that reminded me of William and I soon came to the understanding that he hadn't left me, he's always been with me," she explained, looking down at the half-asleep wolf sprawled across her lap. "How did you calm him? He is very protective of me."

"So I've seen," he replied amusedly. "Gryffindors have always had an understanding with the wolf species, something in our magic calls to them, and that is why I was able to settle him. He was able to recognise the similarities in our magical energy and he knew I meant you no harm. I believe, aside from your friend's reincarnated spirit, that is why he is so taken with you."

"If you are affiliated with wolves, why do you have the emblem of a lion?" She tipped her head.

"Helga, she _hates_ wolves. When I considered the emblem, she threatened to walk away from Hogwarts," he rolled his eyes.

Hermione frowned. "Why does she hate wolves?"

He snorted. "She had chickens when she was younger, she treated them as if they were her children and a wolf snuck onto her father's land and ate them all," he replied, his eyes crinkling as though he were fighting back a laugh.

Hermione nodded. "How long will you stay in Camelot?"

"For as long as King Uther allows, and as long as you would like me to. I was speaking the truth when I said I would like to be in your life, I would like the opportunity to know you as a person. King Uther said you have done many wonderful things for this Kingdom and I would like to see it for myself."

Hermione cleared her throat and slowly nodded. "I would like that, how many others can say they hold the reincarnated spirit of Godric Gryffindor's daughter, who he magically dragged back through time in order to save her life?"

Being in the possession of Godric Gryffindor's daughter's reincarnated spirit and family magic was going to take an exceptional amount of time to get used to. She supposed, as her eyes darted to the sword on the wall, that was why the sword had come to her aid when she'd needed it most, when she hadn't even thought of it or asked for it. It had sensed the family magics within her and her need.

Laughter bubbled out of him and for the first time, something inside Hermione seemed to settle and her laughter soon followed.

~000~000~000~

Arthur sat beside his father, his eyes scanning the many occupants of the formal banquet hall, seeing the Knights of Camelot, nobles and the riding party of King Godric, all waiting for the feast to begin and the arrival of their special guest.

Arthur had not seen Hermione since she'd been taken to her chambers and he was worried about her, knowing that she was currently going through a difficult and unexpected situation. The only thing that had prevented him from going to her chambers and checking on her well-being was Merlin, who'd annoyingly stuck to his side like glue and did anything and everything he possibly could to distract him. Whilst it had annoyed at the time, as he sat waiting for Hermione's arrival, he was glad for it. He didn't want to interrupt her time with her newly discovered father, not when they'd have so much to discuss.

The announcement of their arrival had Arthur's head snapping towards the door, blocking out his father's words.

"Thank you all for attending on such short notice," he spoke, drawing the attention of the audience. "This evening we are not only welcoming an esteemed guest to Camelot, but we are celebrating the reuniting of father and daughter who have been separated for many, many years. Please join me in welcoming, a young woman you all know well, Princess Hermione Gryffindor and her father, King Godric Gryffindor," he finished, the large doors opening wide and whispers picked up at the sudden change in Hermione's relationship as they'd known her as his Granddaughter, not his daughter.

The moment she stepped into the firelight on King Godric's arm with Akela by her side, everyone else seemed to fade away and he could barely take his eyes from her. At this point, he supposed he should be quite used to her beauty but she never ceased to prove him wrong.

Her dress moulded to her body as all of her 'feast dresses' usually did, but this one floated down to the ground as if made from silk, it rippling as she walked. The crimson-red colouring contrasted against her pale skin with her neck and shoulders on display, the sleeves falling all the way down to her wrists and a subtle cleavage being shown. Her hair, whilst looking a little less frizzy than King Godric's, had red flowers entwined through the strands and a golden and ruby-studded tiara sat atop her head, similar to the one he'd given her all those weeks ago.

He'd barely stopped himself from standing and meeting her halfway to escort her to her seat, especially when the King, her _father_ , was already doing so. Once Hermione was seated beside him and King Godric took the chair on the left of his father (a position that was usually left for Morgana who was not in attendance at the feast due to her feeling unwell) and pleasantries were exchanged, the feast began.

Arthur noticed quickly that Hermione placed very small portions of food onto her own plate before she made up a larger plate for her wolf and set it on the ground.

"Hermione?" He questioned in concern.

She turned to him and released a sigh. "I am fine, Arthur." He didn't believe her and his expression conveyed that. "Well, I am not completely fine," she amended, "But I will be. I have taken the time to speak with my father," she stumbled over the word he noticed, "And whilst I know there is much more to discuss, we have both come to an agreement to take the time we have to get to know one another. Right now, I am confused, overwhelmed and exhausted, but I know with a little time and sleep, I will be well."

"If there is anything you need...?"

"Then I will ask, thank you, Arthur," she gave him her first smile of the night and he felt himself relaxing.

They soon fell into comfortable conversation as they usually did and Arthur laughed at Hermione as he always did when she sipped at the ale in her goblet and grimaced, only for Hermione to repay the favour when he slipped food to Akela and the wolf's teeth accidentally nipped his fingers in his over-eagerness, but his father's conversation with King Godric flittered to his ears and Arthur felt his eyes widen in panic and his chest constrict.

"King Godric..."

"Please, Godric is more than acceptable, I have never been one for formal addressings," he interrupted, Arthur briefly feeling amused, knowing that Hermione had the same dislike, before his panic quickly overpowered it.

"Of course, then you must call me Uther," his father tipped his head before continuing. "Now that you have been reunited with your daughter, you mentioned she is your only heir? Will she be expected to depart with you on your return to Hogwarts?"

Godric slowly chewed the food in his mouth before reaching for his goblet and taking a large gulp of ale and setting it back on the table.

"In Hogwarts, Helga, Rowena, Salazar and I, as co-rules of the Kingdom," he started, his eyes darting to Hermione questioningly for a moment and then back to his father, "Collectively decided that no matter the sex of a child, it would be the Royal heir to our respective cities, eliminating the pressure of a male heir needing to be born. Hermione has been away from Hogwarts for such a time I understand that it is no longer her home, I know that she considers Camelot to be her home and whilst I am saddened she was forced to suffer in a war I tried to protect her from, that she has had bad experiences in a Kingdom she was born to one day rule, I am happy she has a place she feels safe. If she wishes to remain in Camelot, then she may..." Arthur released a huge breath of relief. "If she wishes to return to Hogwarts and take her rightful place on the throne once I step down or pass, whichever may come first, then I would be overjoyed."

King Uther made a humming noise before he reached for his goblet of ale, his gaze darting to Arthur, then Hermione and back to King Godric.

"If the Princess is your only heir, why would you not force her to return? I believe she once mentioned you had a brother, would he be next in line?"

"Unfortunately, my brother passed of illness last year," he replied, "And at this moment in time and with the passing of my son, Hermione is my only _living_ heir."

Arthur didn't need to look at Hermione to know she was frowning in confusion, especially when he felt the same.

"I do not understand," said his father.

"I lost my wife several years after we sent Hermione away for her protection and years passed that I was without my wife, my daughter and my son. I was alone. I knew that I would never love another woman the way I loved my Lillian, but I did meet a woman, Anna, with who I didn't feel so lonely. We have been married three years and recently, we have discovered she is with child."

"That is wonderful news," his father said at the same time as Hermione hissed, "What! You never mentioned that you remarried or that you were expecting another child."

Hermione's head spun. Godric only had one son, she knew! But then, she'd never known he'd had a daughter, the one that she was the reincarnation of, so she supposed he could've had a third child, too. It wasn't known that he'd married twice, either. Maybe this was the one that died _young_ , the one people knew about. The man who'd 'raised' her had been old enough to marry and decades had passed since, he would've been in his mid-thirties at least, perhaps not so young given the current time period.

King Godric's expression softened as he turned his eyes to her. "I apologise, little cub, I had not intended to keep such news from you, but we'd had quite the discussion and I did not wish to overwhelm you further."

Arthur saw the way she took a breath and then she seemed to deflate, nodding her head and a smile tugged at her mouth. "Well, I admit that I have always wanted a sibling."

King Godric smiled at her, his eyes crinkling in the corners. "You are my eldest, Hermione, you will always have a claim to the throne no matter if my wife births a boy or girl."

Hermione nodded slowly before saying, "Whilst I understand that, I hope you understand that I do not wish to rule in Gryffindor city. As you said yourself, I have not been there for quite some time and we both know the citizens are unaware of my existence. I was not raised to rule or sit on a throne and as such, I have no business in doing so. This chid, my brother or sister..." Arthur noticed she stumbled over the words. "Will be raised in Gryffindor and can be groomed for taking the throne."

"Hermione, what you are saying, you need to think carefully about your decision. Once the child grows old enough to take the throne..."

"I am positive," she interrupted, spearing him with an annoyed gaze. "The people deserve a King or Queen who understands them, who will care for them, who will protect them."

"And that is not you?" King Godric replied, locking gazes with her.

Neither of them appeared to be backing down and startlingly, Arthur realised this was where she got her stubbornness from, her father.

Hermione's expression suddenly softened as she released a sigh. "No, it is not." Arthur whole-heartedly disagreed. "I do not want to be Queen of Gryffindor, please respect my wishes. My time is better spent helping those that need it, not sitting on a throne. You have a child on the way, one that you can teach and tutor accordingly. Please, take the time that you could not spend with me and give it to them."

"This is a discussion that we most definitely will be revisiting," he promised.

Hermione scoffed quietly so only he would hear, his father might just choke on his ale if he witnessed such unladylike behaviour from her. Arthur, himself, didn't so much mind it. To him, it was refreshing, something he'd grown used to expect from her and something none of the noblewomen or Princesses would do. She wasn't afraid to be herself around him and he liked that about her.

"We most definitely will not," she disagreed stubbornly.

~000~000~000~

It had been days since he'd seen Hermione. Since the arrival of her father, he and Hermione had not spent any of their evenings together as was routine, they'd not taken a single walk through the marketplace nor had they visited the stream, he knew she hadn't visited with Charles or her charges or the orphaned children in the streets and neither had she or her father been present at dinner, something he'd expected his father to take offence with but he'd done the exact opposite, stating it was imperative that King Godric and Hermione spent as much time together as possible before he took his departure, needing to return to not only his Kingdom but his expecting wife.

If he were being honest, Arthur missed her. It wasn't as though she'd left Camelot, she hadn't even left the castle grounds, but they had a routine and this was the first time it had been broken. This was the longest he'd gone without seeing and speaking with her and it was eating him up inside.

He missed her laugh, he missed the way she'd glare at him for his teasing, the way the wind would blow her hair into her face and she'd huff in annoyance, the way she never failed to complain about her dislike of wearing dresses, being much more comfortable in breeches, tunics and shirts. He missed their conversations, light and comfortable when in public or eating dinner in the banquet hall, private and vulnerable when they were alone and without an audience. He missed her calming voice when she offered him words of advice after a particularly stressful council meeting or when she was reading from one of the books he gifted her, a new one each week. He missed her scoffs and snorts, her bickering with his Knights, he even missed her hushed and whispered conversations with Merlin, her offering him an innocent smile and Merlin an idiotic grin when he questioned them on their behaviour.

He wasn't certain how much longer King Godric would remain in Camelot, and whilst he was happy Hermione had discovered the truth, that she'd learned she had a father and a sibling soon to be born, that was she was taking the time to get to know him and build a relationship with, part of Arthur, the selfish and jealous part of him, wanted King Godric as far away from Camelot as possible so he might get Hermione back.

Her lack of absence had made him irritable and sullen, so much so he was given a wide berth when in the corridors, his Knights observed him carefully and were cautious with their words lest they anger him and he was not merciful when sparring, Merlin fled his presence as soon as he possibly could, Morgana remained quiet and his father always looked torn between amusement and pity. All of this because he had not seen Hermione in three days. Three _very_ long days.

And because of that, he was surprised when he'd caught sight of Hermione and her father when he'd left the castle after finishing breakfast, intending to head to the training grounds. He froze mid-step and almost fell down the remaining steps before he righted his balance, his eyes refusing to move from Hermione's retreating back lest it be a trick of his imagination, only he felt them narrow when he saw the direction they were heading. Out of the castle gates and without guards.

Scowling –the woman was downright maddening!- he descended the remainder of the steps and made his presence known, them both halting to a stop and turning to face him.

"Arthur," Hermione greeted brightly, Arthur blinking slowly before giving his head a shake. He hadn't seen that smile in days.

"Princess, Your Grace," he said, tipping his head to the King.

"Prince Arthur, you may call me Godric, as I have said, I do not care for such formal adressings," he replied with a roll of his eyes, something Hermione did often. Arthur was quickly beginning to understand that whilst Hermione most likely looked most like her mother, she'd definitely gotten her mannerisms from her father.

"What can we do for you?" Hermione asked.

Arthur turned his gaze to her and gave her a knowing look. "You are leaving the castle grounds?"

"Yes, my father," she stumbled Arthur noticed, "And I have spent quite a few days getting to know one another and now I wish to show him the city and marketplace so he might see all that I have done in my time here."

"Understandable," he nodded, "However, I can't help notice you are without the presence of your guards."

Hermione glared at him but Arthur refused to back down. There were many things he would do for Hermione but relenting on her protection detail was not one of them. That was the number one no-no on his list.

"I don't require guards," she argued, folding her arms and lifting her chin, something her father found amusing.

"Yes, you do," he argued. "We have been over this before, Hermione. You have no restrictions in the castle, you are free to go where you wish and do whatever you wish, my father's only condition was that you be escorted outside of the castle walls by guards. With Michel and Emerick due to return to their duties as your personal guards shortly, the Knights are still on rotation as acting guards until they do."

"No,"

"Yes, or I cannot allow you to leave the castle."

"I'm not a prisoner," her voice rose and her cheeks flushed in indignation. Arthur thought she looked adorable.

"You will _never_ be a prisoner of Camelot," he replied, something in his eyes telling her there was a deeper meaning behind it. "But your safety is paramount."

"You're being overprotective again," she warned.

"No, if I were being overprotective I would assign five Knights to guard you," he argued.

" _Five_!"

"Yes, five," he confirmed.

"Calm, little cub," King Godric said, placing his hand on Hermione's shoulder and she seemed to deflate under his touch. Interesting, he thought. "I can see that you care for my daughter's safety and if it would make you feel more at ease, I will have several of my own guards follow us."

"I mean no disrespect, Your Grace, but I do not trust men I have not fought in battle with to protect the Princess," Arthur spoke boldly, not missing the way the King tilted his head and his eyes narrowed slightly, he seemed to be searching for something and he didn't know what, so Arthur made sure to hold his gaze. "You do not know Hermione as I do. She is quite maddening. She relieved her personal guards from their duties for several weeks so they may spend time with Michel's wife and firstborn. I replaced them with two of my Knights, each day she evaded them, some of them twice, and since, I have righted my mistake and ensured she is always accompanied by three of my Knights and they guard on rotation so it would be harder for to escape them or wear them down until they allow her to do something she wants to do, usually something quite dangerous."

King Godric's gaze darted to Hermione, his expression seeming to be a mixture of amusement, pride and disapproval.

"It seems a guard detail is required," he commented, Hermione sending him a look of betrayal and Arthur smiled smugly. "Perhaps, Young Prince, we might require three of your best Knights to accompany my own guards. One can never be too careful when dealing with a cunning Princess."

"Of course, Your Grace. If you wouldn't mind waiting, I will alert Sirs Leon, Geraint and Robert and they will be here momentarily."

King Godric tipped his head. "That will ensure that I have time to warn my own guards against my daughter's evading tendencies."

When Arthur left, he felt Hermione's glare right in-between his shoulder blades and he felt a smile pull at his mouth. It had been days since she'd looked at him like that. And now, all was right with the world.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 16

The days had passed quickly for Hermione as she spent all of her time with Godric, learning more about his life and character as he did the same for her. He showed curiosity about her life in the future and whilst she always answered his questions the best she was able, she was sure to never reveal anything that might be too crucial or exposing.

Since Hermione had given a tale of war to those around her, she'd all but been forced to tell Godric of the war she'd face, being exceptionally careful with names (God only knows what he'd do if he discovered Slytherin's progeny was responsible) but seeing as it was so far in the future, there wasn't possibly anything he could do to change it, well, nothing short of killing Slytherin that was. And by telling him of the war, now if asked questions their replies would match, giving credibility and an extra layer of protection.

They spent most of their time conversing in her chambers, nibbling at little cakes and tarts and sipping at tea and they also took their meals in there, Godric only leaving when it grew late only to return the next morning after breakfast.

In such a little she'd been surprised by how comfortable she'd felt around him but she was beginning to understand it wasn't him per se, more his magical signature, his family magics which were a part of her, too. And in such little time, Hermione found it odd that she'd accepted the circumstances so quickly when usually it would've taken a day or so. She mused that perhaps it was his magic that aided in it, helping to calm her and free her of stress.

After several days of being holed up in her chambers, Hermione thought it time they go into the city, wishing to show Godric the partially built orphanage, the marketplace and the medical practice and free health care she'd implemented, something that had both impressed and surprised him.

And as they walked through the marketplace being stared at by the other patrons wondering who the unknown man beside her was, and being followed by three Knights and five of Godric's 'guards', he said something that snapped her to attention.

"The Young Prince cares for you," he commented casually, not looking at her but perusing the stalls and patrons around them.

"He is quite overprotective, annoyingly so, but Arthur is a good man."

"Hmm, one you might one day marry?"

Hermione halted to a stop and almost tripped on a stone before she righted herself, staring up at him in surprise.

"No," she shook her head, continuing in her steps.

His eyebrow arched and his mouth tugged into a smirk. "No? I do believe it has been many a year since I last saw a man being so protective of a woman. And I do believe that the murderous glare you set on him can only be perfected by a woman in love and who was mad at her lover."

Hermione froze once more before she released a tired sigh and with a subtle wave of her fingers she cast a _Muffliato_ , Godric arching a curious eyebrow as he felt the pulse of magic settle around them but he didn't comment.

"My feelings for Arthur are of no concern," she replied, her voice void of emotion.

"Oh, so you do love him?"

Her eyes snapped to him. "Regardless of how I may feel or of how he may feel, it does not matter. Arthur and I can never be together."

"And your reasoning?"

She paused in her steps before she turned to face him, clasping her hands together and pressing them against her stomach, squeezing her fingers tightly.

"I have told you of who Arthur is destined to be and by his side, he had his Knights, Merlin and his wife, Guinevere. Guinevere is Lady Morgana's handmaiden and is destined to marry Arthur."

"Says who?" He challenged.

"History!" She snapped. "History states that his love for Guinevere was a tale for the ages and they married, unfortunately, they had no children and Arthur died in battle, defeating a dark witch! He is destined for greatness, he is destined to marry Guinevere and he is destined to die! I cannot interfere! The thought of him dying, of never seeing him again is more painful than a dagger to the heart. The thought of losing him..." She trailed off, closing her eyes, taking a breath and calming herself. "He is not mine and he can never be. For reasons that I don't understand, Arthur and Guinevere rarely interact. She once admitted that she couldn't stand him but that he has become more tolerable since meeting me. I have done everything I can to bring them together but it never works and I've since decided to stop trying in hopes they would come together naturally, but if anything, it has gotten worse. Merlin often speaks of Arthur's feelings for me, as does Guinevere and I know both of them believe that we will marry, even _support_ it, but I cannot. It's impossible. He has to be with Guinevere."

He looked down at her calmly. "Well, if he has no interest in this woman your history states he is supposed to marry, perhaps he is not."

"He is! Nothing has changed!"

"Nothing except for you," he argued. "He cares for you deeply, I saw it when you fainted, when you were interacting during the feast, when on the castle grounds. You say you have done everything you can to bring him and Guinevere together but nothing has worked, perhaps it was not meant to. Perhaps he was meant for _you_."

"I'm from the future,"

He tipped his head, a smile tugging at his mouth. "But your spirit was born _here_ , in the time of your legendary King Arthur. Do you not think it strange you arrived in this time and found yourself in the presence of your King Arthur, when you could have landed _anywhere_ , particularly Hogwarts? Do you not find it odd that your King Arthur died fighting a dark witch and yet here you stand, a witch? Here you stand, a witch, in a Kingdom that forbids the use of magic? Do you not find it odd that you, a witch, have fallen in love with your King Arthur and his feelings are returned? Perhaps, Hermione, it is Fate. Perhaps is it your Fate that you marry Arthur and use your magic to help him defeat this dark witch, to birth his children and ensure he does not die so he might fulfil his destiny."

"I don't believe that, I can't," she whispered, her head lowering as she forced back the tears.

"But perhaps you should, little cub. You are smart, impressively so and I don't doubt Rowena would very much love to work with you, but you are young and there are things you have yet to learn in life, to learn about magic. When the Prince is nearby, how do you feel? How does your magic feel?"

Hermione nibbled at her lip as she debated answering his questions.

"Safe, cared for, _happy_. And my magic, I feel more in control when he is nearby, my magic sings to me. I often have dreams, I have since I was a child, dreams I cannot make sense of but I always know to be important and then I get the strange sense of deja vu."

"Excuse me?"

"Deja vu, it is a term that means one has an overwhelming sense of familiarity with something they should not be familiar with. Perhaps an item being broken and you could've sworn it had already happened."

"Little cub, the birth mother of your spirit was gifted with premonitions," he reminded her softly. "Whilst yours don't seem to be as vivid as you said you were unable to understand them, what you have just described sounds remarkably like the gift of sight. As you mature they may develop into vivid dreams, they may stop altogether or nothing may change. But are you saying you dream of him?"

"Possibly," she admitted, still trying to process what she'd just learned.

Honestly, after all the time she'd spent bad-mouthing Trelawney (which was well deserved, the woman was a nutter) and divination, here she was with the potential gift of sight. _Fabulous_! Could her life get any stranger?

"Then perhaps they are trying to tell you something. Fate is a powerful entity, and will always find a way. Whilst you have the spirit and magic of my daughter, you are your own person and character. Maybe your King Arthur needs you both, Hermione Gryffindor _and_ Hermione Granger. There is every bit the chance he is not supposed to die but that you are to save him."

"I can't change history, it's one of our most sacred laws. History can never and should never be changed. There are fixed points in time that must happen."

"Oh, then what are you doing here in Camelot?"

"You brought me here," she snapped.

He arched an eyebrow, amused. "Yes, but only because my daughter died and my wife had a premonition of her return, something that motivated me to ensure that premonition became a reality. Fate."

"If Arthur doesn't die, if he has children, the current monarchy which I grew up with is quite likely to never exist. Queen Elizabeth II may never be born, may never be crowned Queen. Or Queen Victoria, Queen Mary, Alfred the Great, Henry VII, Richard III, George V, all Kings and Queens which may never ascend to the throne if Arthur lives."

"That is possible but it is also possible that she _will_ be crowned and made Queen, as will the others and Arthur's bloodline may die out further into history, after several generations. If he is destined for great things, it is understandable that he is meant to be on the throne longer than he was known for being. Is it possible that after his death and his bloodline dying out, that a tyrannical King takes the throne and thousands suffer? Perhaps that will be prevented if he lives. It is Fate. Everything happens for a reason, Hermione. I have not spent much time with the Prince or you, I have not seen you interact the way others have, but I believe and trust in faith and in magic, and you should, too. I truly believe that you and Arthur are destined, I believe that this is a change that is _meant_ to happen."

Hermione took a breath and gripped the fabric of her dress in her fingers.

"Let's agree to disagree, shall we?" She said, refusing to back down or listen to reason, perhaps when she was alone and it was quiet she might be able to calm her mind and run the possibilities, but not now.

~000~000~000~

"Now, I know I have told you of Charles and his brothers," Hermione spoke, a smile tugging at her mouth when one of the orphaned children on the street came from nowhere, hugged her around the waist and then ran off without a second glance. "But there is a reason I wish for you to meet them."

"Yes, you when speaking of them you had that same proud tone only a mother could have, Helga uses it often enough when speaking of her son," he replied amusedly, whether it was aimed at her or Helga, she wasn't sure.

"I can't help it," she defended herself. "I have always been a mother hen, something that was needed given the men I grew up with." He arched an eyebrow. "They were either running headfirst into danger, trying to put off their school work for as long as possible or being annoying, sometimes all three."

He chuckled, giving his head a shake.

"Ah, this is it," she said, gesturing to the small hut before them.

" _This_ is it?" He asked horrified.

"Yes, we are working on plans to have a bigger building constructed but for the time being it does what it's supposed to and with the boys no longer living here, there is more space and patients may stay overnight should it be needed. There is one, in particular, I want you to meet."

"Oh?"

"Yes, Harrow, he is twelve-years-old and when I arrived in Camelot I accidentally discovered that he is capable of magic. He had no training or knowledge of magic before I met him and his magic is instinctual, more so for his brothers than himself. He does not practise the magic of the Old Religion, but our form of magics."

"That's interesting," he mused. "Is he the only one to possess magic?"

"Yes, his parents were non-magicals, Harrow is a Muggleborn. Since my discovery, I have been working with him as much as possible and he is a remarkably fast learner and his control grows by the day."

"The reason you are telling me this and wishing for us to meet is that you wish for him to attend Hogwarts," he said knowingly.

"Was I that obvious?"

"Yes,"

"Well, I suppose it is good that I wasn't hinting at subtly. Giving his age, he can attend Hogwarts and I know that with proper instruction and tutors he can thrive. The only problem I see in this is Charles. Understandably, Charles is quite protective of his brothers and I know he will not give permission for Harrow to attend a school which is so far from Camelot. He is going to take a lot of convincing."

"Leave that to me," he waved his hand dismissively. "As for his attendance, I know how important these children are to you and I will personally ensure that he is well cared for and he is treated with respect by both students and tutors."

"Thank you, I appreciate that but you should know, should anything happen to him, I will make the rest of your life so miserable that being under threat of a dementor would hardly compare to it."

He snorted at her. "You truly are my daughter in spirit."

"No, that was me, Hermione _Granger_."

Hermione came to a stop and quickly cancelled the _Muffliato_ before the Knights and guards grew close enough to become suspicious about the strange buzzing.

"We shall be visiting my charges for a little while, perhaps you may wish to take a break."

The five 'guards' made to leave as if to do just that but the three Knights remained still and folded their arms over their chests.

"We are quite comfortable here, thank you, Your Highness," Sir Leon replied innocently.

Hermione sent a glare to Godric when he sniggered.

"Oh, honestly, why are you being so stubborn?"

"Stubborn?" He arched an eyebrow. "Not stubborn, Your Highness, _smart_ ," he corrected.

"There is only one entrance and one exit, they are both the same. Where am I going to go?" She folded her arms over her chest and lifted her chin.

"Whilst there is only one door, there are several windows and you are small enough to fit through them. I would not be surprised if you broke the glass to escape."

Hermione scowled, silently admitting that it had once been her escape plan but she'd thought better of it.

"Not when there are children present," she argued. "It has been a long morning of walking through the city, take a break."

"No, we're fine, our replacements will be along soon, we will take a break after they arrive."

Hermione made a noise of frustration before she turned on her heel and stormed to the hut, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

"Do you believe she would resort to such measures?" Godric asked the Knight.

"Your Grace, I _know_ she would."

~000~000~000~

A week had passed since the arrival of King Godric and with the return of Hermione's personal guards, Arthur had felt more at ease knowing that Hermione couldn't wear them down or escape them as they knew all of her potential tricks, but also that Hermione did tend to listen to them when they expressed their concerns for her safety.

Hermione's visits to the city were more frequent and it was almost as though things had gone back to normal, except for the fact she always had King Godric with her, she'd yet to return to joining them for dinner and he'd yet to spend an evening with her.

Given that the two almost seemed to be inseparable, Arthur was quite surprised when he saw King Godric wandering the castle grounds alone, and seeing this he made a split-second decision and forgot his father's warnings as he followed after him, only making his presence known when they neared the suspiciously quiet guest stables.

"Prince Arthur," the King greeted, "What might I do for you?"

Arthur halted to a stop with a reasonable distance between them before he tipped his head in acknowledgement and fisted his hands behind his back in an attempt to not fidget or seem nervous. Gathering his courage, steeling his nerves and taking a breath, he looked the King in his eyes, so similar to Hermione's that it gave him the final nudge he needed to go through with his plan.

"I wish to speak about Hermione."

"Is she well?" The King asked.

"Yes, the last I heard she was tending to some business regarding the orphanage."

His mouth tugged into a smile. "She truly is a remarkable woman; I only regret that I did not get to see her grow."

"Yes, she is," Arthur agreed and then paused, choosing his next words carefully.

"Is there something you wish to say?" The King arched an eyebrow, looking amused.

"Your Grace," Arthur took a breath and then subtly stood taller, refusing to look away from his gaze. "Hermione is one of the kindest, most caring women I have ever met, regardless of her parentage. She is truly a one of a kind and I know she has done many great things to help better the lives of those in Camelot and I know she will do many more, my biggest hope is that she will be by my side when she does."

"Prince Arthur, please, Gryffindors are not known for being subtle, if there is something you wish to say, then do so."

"King Godric, I wish to marry your daughter."

Arthur wasn't entirely sure how he felt when the King showed no reaction, his face remaining frighteningly blank of any and all emotions. Even his father was not capable of such a thing and he was a man who rarely liked to show his emotions.

"Why do you wish to marry Hermione?"

Arthur barely paused to consider his next words, as they spilt freely from his mouth, trying to appeal to the King's own thoughts.

"Should we marry, an alliance will be formed and two kingdoms will be united."

"Prince Arthur," the King started and Arthur felt his heart constrict when he saw the King's expression. He was _not_ pleased or impressed. "In my Kingdom and most importantly, my family, we do not marry for something so trivial as an alliance. We do not and are not known for marrying for wealth, for soldiers, for appearance or for the uniting of two Kingdoms. We marry for the most important thing all of. Love. My daughter is the most precious thing in the world to me, I would give up _everything_ for her health and happiness. Can you promise me the same? Should I agree to a union, can you promise to protect my daughter even if it should mean your own downfall? Can you promise to fight her stubbornness regarding potentially dangerous situations? Can you promise to treat her with respect and kindness, to hold her above all else? To love her as she deserves?"

Arthur blinked in surprise before he relaxed his stance and allowed his arms to fall down by sides.

"Hermione is kind and compassionate, I have seen the differences she has made to the lives of those in Camelot, differences I wish I could have made but the council restrict my actions and there is only so much I can do. She opened my eyes to the suffering of my people, suffering I wasn't aware of and I have since been campaigning harder for change. The orphanage would not exist if it weren't for her, I'm certain many of my people would have died had they not received the free treatment she offered. My people respect Hermione and I know that she will do everything in her power to protect them should it be required. I know that despite her own opinions, she will be a Queen that is loved."

"Have I not already proven that I care for her safety? I wouldn't insist on so many guards for just anyone, even a noblewoman or visiting royal. Have I not already proven that I will do what is best for her safety no matter her disapproval or annoyance? And to someday love her as she deserves? Your Grace, I have never before experienced being in love but I know I would die for her safety. I know that when she is not present, I am irritable. I know that when I see her, her smile brightens my day and her laugh fills me contentment. I know that when she is with me, I am a better man. I only wish to be the man she deserves and I know that is quite the challenge, but it is one I am willing to attempt."

"Hermione is able to calm me, to offer words of advice or calm when needed and that is something a King needs in a Queen. I know she loves and cares for my people. I know she would fight to protect them. I know that with her by my side, as my wife and Queen, Camelot would only prosper. The moment I met your daughter in a little bandit-infested village, I knew she was someone special, but I never knew just how important she would become to me, how much I would grow to need her. Your Grace, you won't ever have to worry about your daughter's safety in Camelot. She will always be protected whether it is by her wolf, her personal guards, my Knights or myself. You won't ever have to worry about her well-being as she will always be cared for and treated with love and respect. You won't ever have to worry about her being unloved for I swear on my sword, on my crown and on my honour as a Knight, I _do_ love your daughter. And should you agree to a union, I will promise that I will love her until my last breath."

Arthur held his breath as King Godric narrowed his eyes slightly, straightened his stance and his hand came to rest on his sword as his head tipped to the right slightly, his gaze seemed to be analyzing him carefully. Arthur almost took a step back both under his unrelenting and when King Godric took a step closer to him, but he held his ground, not wanting to show fear or uncertainty. His hand fell from his sword and he raised it until it grasped his shoulder, not so much pressure that it hurt but certainly enough that he felt it. Arthur realising that although King Godric was shorter than him, his shoulders were broader and his hands were massive.

"That is the answer I needed."

Arthur released a slow breath and allowed himself to relax, almost slumping where he stood.

"I did not want the response of a _Prince_ but the response of a man who will love and care for my daughter. Whilst I have not witnessed many interactions between you and my daughter, the few that I have seen soothe some of my concerns. You are lucky to have servants that are so loyal to you, Young Prince. I confess that during my time walking the grounds of the castle, I have deliberately sought out those closest to both you and my daughter, your manservant Merlin could not sing you enough praises." Arthur felt his eyes widen a little in surprise. "And I also confess that I was quite aware of your desire to marry my daughter, I was simply waiting for the subject to be brought into conversation and I did wonder if it would be you or your father that announced your wishes. I admit that I am pleased you were man enough to speak to me yourself. Gryffindors value courage above all else."

"Do I have your permission to make your daughter my wife and future Queen of Camelot?" Arthur asked, unable to hide the hopeful tone to his voice.

"You have my permission, however..." Arthur felt his hope plummet to the ground. "I am not like most men. As I said, my family marries for love and nothing else, it is for that reason I cannot choose a husband for my daughter. It would be immoral of me to deny Hermione the choice of accepting or rejecting your proposal. Should she wish to marry you, then you have my blessing. Should she wish to reject you, I will support her decision and I will not force her into marriage. The decision is solely hers."

"I understand, Your Grace," Arthur replied, feeling some relief but it was overpowered by his nerves.

"You must bring your wishes to her yourself and once you have her answer, if she accepts, I will speak to your father."

~000~000~000~

"Enter," Hermione called, not taking her attention away from her task of sweeping the stone floor of her chambers.

When the door opened and closed, Hermione peeked over her shoulder and a smile tugged at her mouth at the sight of Arthur watching her horrified.

"Good morning, Arthur," she greeted.

"Hermione, _what_ are you doing?"

"I thought that was quite obvious," she replied, giving an exaggerated sweep of the bristles against the ground, a small cloud of dust gathering before it settled.

"But... Where is Ginevra? As your handmaiden, it is her duty to ensure the cleanliness of your chambers."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Arthur, not only am I a relatively clean person as I can pick up my own clothing from the ground or return items to their correct place of holding, but I am quite capable of sweeping the floor. As for Ginevra, she has not been my handmaiden for quite some time."

"Excuse me?" He questioned in surprise.

Hermione, after sweeping the little dirt in the room into a pile, placed the sweeping brush off to the side, leaning it against one of her cabinets before she dusted her hands on her dress.

"She is no longer my handmaiden," she replied.

"For how long have you been without a handmaiden and why did you not tell me so I might have arranged for a new one?"

"Well, I did not tell you for that very reason. I do not need a handmaiden. I am quite capable of changing my own bedsheets, of making my own bed and cleaning my own chambers. I don't need someone hovering around me, getting in my way and testing my patience. I gave Ginevra as few responsibilities as possible and it was too much for either of us to handle. As for breakfast, Gwen has been a big help in bringing it to my rooms before she tends to Morgana, as I wake quite a bit earlier than she does."

"Hermione, you need a handmaiden," he argued.

"No, I don't. I have not had one for approximately six weeks and you did not notice. I enjoy doing things for myself, it is how I was raised, to depend on no one but myself."

Arthur knew when to back down but he'd be sure to bring the subject up again in the future. "What did she do that you finally dismissed her?"

"Several things, she scared some of the children with her constant whimpering, she angered Akela when she stepped on his tail and it took quite the effort to calm him and prevent him from biting her. She also destroyed one of my dresses when washing it and she set fire to my bedsheets, all in a single day."

Being speechless, Arthur simply stared at her before laughter fell from his lips and Hermione's soon joined. Arthur had always thought Merlin was clumsy and useless, but he'd never been so bad to have made the mistakes Hermione's handmaiden had. It was no surprise she had been dismissed and if he were being honest, if the roles were reversed, he wouldn't have been as patient as Hermione.

"My life has been quite peaceful without her cries and Akela seems to be more relaxed, it is for the best," Hermione said after her laughter had calmed. "Anyway, what can I do for you this morning?"

"I was hoping you might join me on a walk around the grounds, we haven't spent much time together since the arrival of your father."

"Yes, it has been quite the experience, hasn't it?" She sighed, looking tired. "I believe a walk is exactly what I need," she nodded. "Akela," she called, looking to the wolf tangled in a pile of blankets. "Are you staying here or coming with us?"

Arthur chuckled when the wolf opened a single eye before closing it again, rolling over onto his back and scratching it against the ground before he turned onto his side, facing away from them.

"There is no need to be so rude," Hermione scolded before she headed for the door, opening it and stepped out, seeing her guards stood on either side of her door. "Michel, Emerick, I'm going to accompany Arthur on a walk through the grounds."

Her personal guards looked to one another and that back to her. "You won't leave the castle walls?" Asked Michel.

"No,"

"No?" Echoed Emerick.

"No, I'm not a child and I'd appreciate it if you did not treat me as such," she narrowed her eyes.

"Then perhaps you should not behave like one," he replied, his face blank.

Hermione gasped and she raised her pointer finger as though she were about to start an argument so Arthur intervened, stepping between them, placing his hand on Hermione's shoulder, turning her to face the opposite direction and gently nudging her forward. Thankfully, she didn't fight and as they walked down the corridor, Hermione speared them with a glare over her shoulder and Arthur followed it with an amused raise of his eyebrow.

"How are you finding things with your father?" Arthur asked, their conversation turning to something more personal now that they were away from the castle where most of the staff could be found.

"It has been difficult to come to terms with it, if I'm honest. I wasn't expecting to ever see him again, let alone discover that my father was not my father but my brother, and my Grandfather was not my Grandfather but my father," she replied, Arthur noting that she didn't stumble over the word as she once did. "I was told many stories of him growing up and now that I've met him, he is not what I was expecting."

"In what way?"

"I'm not sure I can accurately describe it," she frowned, her lips pursing in thought. "He's just not what I was expecting... But I've spent the majority of my time since his arrival with him and although I felt overwhelmed and confused and uncomfortable, now, I've grown quite used to his presence and I know I'm going to miss him when he takes his leave but he's sworn to always be there for me when and if I need him."

"He is your father, it is only natural he wishes to be in your life no matter the distance that will separate you," he commented, Hermione nodding absentmindedly.

"Where are we going?" She asked.

"There is something I wish to show you," he replied.

Hermione turned to look at him. "I thought I had seen the grounds of the castle. Are you keeping things from me, Arthur?"

"Maybe," he replied, giving her a smile and tilting his head slightly.

As they neared their destination, Arthur felt the nerves fill him and he had to fold his hands behind his back to stop him from fidgeting and from digging his nails into his palms, and he allowed Hermione to lead the conversation, speaking of her charges and the progress of the orphanage which was almost complete.

As they passed a selection of trees, Arthur's eyes darted about in search. Whilst his plan didn't require this particular step, he felt it necessary if only to calm his own nerves. When he saw her, ducked behind a wagon as the servants removed the grown vegetables from the vegetable patches and placed them in the wagon to be taken back to the castle for the use of the kitchens, he released a sigh of relief.

"Would give me a moment, please?" He asked Hermione as he halted to a stop. She stopped beside him and though she looked a little confused, she nodded, giving her consent.

He smiled at her before he turned and walked briskly towards the wagon, looking behind him to see that Hermione's attention appeared to be on the sky, he ducked behind the wagon.

"Everything is as planned," Guinevere told him.

"And you are certain it is ready?"

"Yes, I paid a visit this morning just to be sure," she nodded, a smile tugging at her mouth when she saw his frazzled state as he ran a hand through his hair. "Arthur, please, you must calm down. She will suspect something is wrong if you continue to act so strangely. I might not know the Princess as well as you but there are things she has confided in me that she has not you."

"What? Why?" He frowned.

She smiled amusedly. "I am a woman," she answered simply. "Now, you must return to her. Take a breath, calm yourself, put a smile on your face and give her these." She produced a bouquet of red and yellow flowers tied with a golden ribbon. "The vendor has promised to send the remainder of his stock to the castle once the marketplace closes, I will be sure to wait by the entrance yard so I might have them brought to the Princess' rooms. Everything is as planned, now, go."

She shooed him with her hands and though he felt quite annoyed at the action, he cleared his throat, gripped the bouquet a little tighter and then he stood and slipped away from the wagon, ignoring the surprised and curious glances of the workers around them. As he approached Hermione, he peered over his shoulder to see Guinevere watching and when she saw him do so, she give him a smile and an annoying shooing gesture of her hands. Grumbling to himself, he closed the distance between him and Hermione and she turned to face him after hearing his approach, a smile pulling at her face when she saw the bouquet in his grasp.

"For me?"

"Of course, Princess," he replied, halting to a stop and then bowing.

He felt some of the nerves leave him when she smiled and took the skirts of her dress in her hands, curtseying to him. Rising to full height, his smile widened when she accepted the bouquet, burying her nose against the petals and inhaling their scent, her cheeks blooming a lovely shade of pink. That was one of the things he loved most about her. No matter how many books he gifted her or flowers he gave her, she always blushed.

They continued on their walk for a little while longer and when he heard the rushing water of the stream, his heartbeat picked up and his insides twisted uncomfortably and he halted to a stop.

"Arthur?" She questioned, her head tipped to the side and the bouquet of flowers gripped between both of her hands.

He took a breath. "Do you trust me?"

"We have been over this before, Arthur. Yes, I trust you, implicitly so."

"Good," he nodded once, "Will you close your eyes, please?"

She gave him a suspicious glance but did as he asked, Arthur gently lifting her arm until she released her grip on the flower bouquet and then he tucked her hand into his elbow, guiding her forward. Minutes later after Hermione's curious questions and Arthur's unhelpful responses, they finally reached their destination.

"Open your eyes, Hermione," he instructed softly.

Her eyes fluttered open and a sudden gasp fell from her lips, her eyes widened and she dropped the flower bouquet to the ground in surprise.

She stood before a large area filled with nothing but flowers all kinds, sizes and colours, certainly more flowers than she ever remembered seeing in one place. It was all cordoned off by a wooden fence with a large ornate archway marking the entrance, vines wound around the structure. A stone pathway began at the archway and continued straight down the middle until it stopped right before a large wooden bench with a high arched backrest and curved armrests. Trees were dotted throughout the garden, birds could be heard calling and seen flying to and from their nests, insects could be seen flittering about and the flowers in their beds blew softly in the breeze, the soil looking a little damp meaning they'd been watered recently as it hadn't rained in the last few days.

Arthur's eyes darted nervously between Hermione's reaction and the garden before him, being quite impressed with the results. After witnessing Hermione's disappointment at discovering the lack of a garden on the castle grounds, ever since that day all those months ago, Arthur had planned for the installation of a garden created solely for her. After months of work and carefully importing flora species that weren't native to Camelot, it was complete. He was certain it would be considered simple compared to other gardens, but simple was something Hermione appreciated.

It was only the day before when he'd received word of its completion and with that, came the idea of revealing his secret to Hermione, thinking the garden would be the perfect place. And now, three days after his conversation with her father, he planned on doing just that.

"I don't understand," Hermione spoke, her voice quiet and soft. "You said you didn't have a garden."

"That was true," he nodded, guiding her forward, under the archway and into the garden, an insect flying past their faces and almost bumping into them. "So, I had one installed for you."

"For me?" She repeated in disbelief. She'd yet to look at him unable to take her eyes from her surroundings.

"Yes, for you," he confirmed. "Think of it as a gift."

"A gift for what purpose?" She finally turned her eyes to him, her tilting back to keep their gazes locked, sparkling brown to bright blue.

This was it.

"If you accept, a wedding gift."

"Excuse me?" Her voice squeaked, her eyes rounding like a plate and she removed her hand from being tucked in his elbow, taking a half-step back but turning to face him.

He reminded himself of King Godric's words. There is nothing more a Gryffindor valued more than courage, so he gathered his.

"I knew from the moment we met you were special and when I returned to Camelot, try as I might, I could not forget about you, you were always in the back of my mind. As since your arrival in Camelot, not only have my people benefited from your kindness but I can honestly say I have never been happier. You are strong and kind and fierce. You are intelligent and stubborn and maddening. But these qualities are what I love most about you. You're not afraid of being yourself around me, you're not afraid to tell me what you think or feel no matter if it may hurt my feelings or if it's what I need to hear. I know that with you by my side, I will be a King Camelot can be proud of and I know you will be a Queen than will protect and love my people. You once confessed that you were afraid you would be alone forever, that you would live a life without love, but should you agree to be my wife, I swear on my sword, my crown and my honour as a Knight to always ensure your safety, your health and your happiness. I swear to always love you, respect you and you treat with kindness. I once said there would be a man that despite him feeling unworthy of you would love you with everything he had but when I said that, I was speaking from my heart. Hermione, I love you."

He wasn't entirely certain what he'd been expecting as a reaction from her but it most certainly wasn't for tears to well in her eyes and with the agonised expression that filled every part of her face, he knew they weren't tears of happiness.

~000~000~000~

_"I love you."_

The words swam through her brain until she felt dizzy and she felt the sting of tears in her eyes but the more she tried to fight them, the harder it became and she lost the battle, hot, fat tears streaming down her cheeks as her heart clenched painfully and her stomach knotted.

He wanted her to be his wife! He was officially asking her for her hand in marriage! She knew Arthur, there would be zero chance of him asking her if he didn't have permission from his father and Godric, too. She was going to kill him! Why didn't he warn her this was coming? She asked him, _told_ him not to get involved.

Ever since her discussion with Godric regarding Fate, Hermione had spent every night since mulling over their words, trying to remain biased in her thoughts but almost every night she became frustrated and cried herself to sleep, Akela allowing her to cling to him as she soaked his fur with her tears and snotted and sniffled all over him.

As the nights passed she was slowly allowing herself to hope, to think that maybe it was possible. Godric was right; there were an awful lot of coincidences that had occurred that had put her in the path of Arthur, that had brought her to Camelot. She was young and still learning the ways of magic, still trying to understand the way it worked despite knowing it was an impossible feat. Magic was magic, it could not be explained or understood. Why had she been deposited in Ealdor when it had been intended for her to arrive at Hogwarts? It was quite the coincidence that it happened to be the birthplace of Merlin of who would later bring Arthur along, and they would meet. Why didn't Arthur and Gwen have any form of a relationship? No matter what she did or how she planned and schemed to get them together, nothing seemed to work and if anything, it had backfired. They barely interacted.

Hermione was not the type of person to easily fall in love and despite that, she'd fallen head over heels for Arthur no matter how hard she had tried to stop it and no matter how hard she fought her feelings. She had long since come to terms with her feelings but she'd had no intentions of acting upon them, silently waiting until the inevitable happened and Arthur fell for Gwen, but the longer she was in Camelot, the less she believed it would happen.

And after analysing all of this whilst she sobbed into Akela's fur, she'd allowed the hope within her to grow that maybe, just maybe, Godric and Merlin had been right. Maybe it _was_ Fate that she marry Arthur, save him from death and ensure his line continues for however long that may be. Maybe it _was_ written in the stars. But even if that were so, there was still one big, glaring problem.

"Hermione?" Arthur question, his voice and expression concerned and when he reached for her, she took a step back, Hermione feeling as though she'd been stabbed in the heart when she saw the look of hurt that flashed through his eyes.

"I... I can't marry you, Arthur," she shook her head.

"Why? I understand that you might not love me yet but..."

"Arthur, it is not because I do not love you... It's because I can't. I can't be your wife, your father would never allow it."

"My father," he frowned in confusion. "Hermione, my father has known about my wish to marry you from the beginning. He was the one that sent a missive to your father, stating our wish for a union between our Kingdoms. He approves. I have known for a long while that I wished to marry you and when I admitted my feelings to my father, I already cared for you very deeply but it wasn't until after the abduction when we'd returned to the castle, that I finally understood that I loved you."

"Arthur," Hermione sniffled, reaching up to wipe away her tears only for more to fall. "You don't understand and I wish I could tell you but I can't... I'm terribly sorry but I can't marry you no matter our feelings. I hope that you can forgive me and I hope you find someone who is truly deserving of you and the man I know you to be."

She tore her gaze from his and turned, barely taking a few steps towards the archway when she heard him speak.

"Hermione..."

It wasn't his voice that had her halting to a complete standstill, that had her heart pounding in her chest and bile rising up her throat. No, it was his words.

"I know you have magic."


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 24

_“I know you have magic.”_

_“I know you have magic.”_

_“I know you have magic.”_

On a loop it played through her mind, a thousand times in the matter of a few short seconds. She felt herself sway before she fisted her hands tightly by her sides and stood her ground, refusing to give into the darkness that threatened to claim her, refusing to lose that morning’s breakfast by emptying it over her shoes.

She straightened her stance and squared her shoulders, taking a breath and slowly turning to face him, being grateful for the distance between them.

“Arthur, I don’t know what you’ve been told but I do _not_ possess magic. Knowing what I do about the laws of Camelot, I would never be foolish enough to come here, let alone stay for as long as I have.”

“Don’t lie to me, Hermione,” he replied, his voice surprisingly soft.

She was expecting anger, hatred, disgust. Not this. Not the softening of his features, the openness of his expression, the calmness of his body language. He wasn’t scared and he showed no signs of wishing to defend himself or attack, especially when he didn’t have his sword on him. That was unusual in itself. Unless he were at dinner or inside the castle walking the corridors, he _always_ had his sword. Why did he not have it now?

“I’m not lying,” she denied.

“Hermione,” he sighed, taking a step forward but pausing when she took a step back. “No one _told_ me. I have witnessed it.”

_Godric!_

Panic rose within her and she fisted her hands into the skirts of her dress, preparing to run for her life. They were fairly close to the woods and given how much time she’d spent in there, she knew she’d be able to navigate her way out of Camelot quite well compared to any who may be sent to apprehend and arrest her. Whilst she didn’t fear death, she wasn’t exactly in the mood to be executed for being a Sorceress. She didn’t want Merlin to have to witness such a thing, she didn’t want Akela to be left alone, to be hunted now that he no longer had her protection. She didn’t want Godric to lose her after all the years he’d spent trying to bring her back to him. She didn’t want her charges to lose her, she wasn’t stupid. Whilst Charles and Harrow saw Hermione as more of a friend, an Aunt, Farley and Kenelm were much younger and they saw Hermione as being more of a mother figure to them. They’d already lost one mother; she didn’t want them to lose her as well. She couldn’t even imagine what it would do to them.

“Kenelm. I saw him fall out of the tree, I saw you protect him.”

She felt her heart stop still. She’d worried that someone might have seen but when she’d looked, she hadn’t seen or spotted any evidence of someone witnessing her use of magic. That explained Arthur’s behaviour afterwards, why he’d been so distressed and unlike himself. 

“In the marketplace, I saw you use magic to protect that child from being harmed by the wagon. In the city, I saw you protect that old woman from being trampled by a horse that had escaped its land. In the woods, I saw you produce apples from thin air to feed Llameri. When we were abducted, I saw you use magic to trip the bandit, saving my life, not once, but _twice_. I saw you, Hermione, and I know you have magic.”

Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest she could hear it thumping in her ears, fear spiked through her and she fisted her skirts tighter.

She wished she could be mad at herself but she couldn’t. At the time she’d thought she’d been subtle, barely looking in the direction of those she’d helped but if she were honest, she wouldn’t change any of it even if she could. She’d helped those people, it wasn’t in her nature to sit back and let people suffer if there was something she could do to help them. If she was going to be sentenced to death for protecting those that needed it, at least she’d stayed true to herself. But she wasn’t going down without a fight.

Without warning, she turned and sprinted down the stone pathway and while she was quite fast, Arthur had longer legs and was able to reach her, his hand encircling her upper arm and tugging her to a stop before she’d even reached the archway. He was surprisingly gentle when he turned her to face him, both of his hands holding her in place and preventing her from trying to escape.

She stared up at him, her expression filled with terror and her wide eyes filled with tears. He could both see and feel her body shaking and despite all of this and knowing what he did about her magic, she made no attempt to use magic against him, to try and escape regardless of the fact she’d be executed if caught.

“Hermione... You will _never_ be a prisoner of Camelot,” he swore. “Just as I swore on my sword, crown and honour to always love and protect you, I swear you will _never_ face harm, prison or execution. Magic or not.”

Her shaking didn’t subside and neither did she lose her expression of terror but he saw confusion flitter through her eyes.

“I know the truth. I understand why you told me the things you did, why you are so supportive of magic. I hadn’t experienced the capabilities of magic cast by a non-evil practitioner, not until I met you. After I saw the things you did with your magic, I began to understand that what you were trying to tell me was true. The magic you used, whilst it could have been used for nefarious purposes, you used it for good, to protect people. I’m beginning to understand that magic is magic, it’s the people that control it we have to manage. I’ve witnessed many evil uses of magic and until you arrived in Camelot, I never believed I would witness it being used for good. And the things you told me about the use of magic in your Kingdom, the school, I realised that only someone who had attended such a school would be able to tell me such detailed knowledge. Whilst trying to help me understand, you gave yourself away.”

“I know there is much more I have to learn and I know that I must learn to trust others, but right now, I only trust _you_. I only trust your magic and your intentions as not only have I witnessed it, I know you and I know your heart. I _know_ you would never use magic for despicable purposes. Your heart is good and kind. Despite what I have been taught to believe from a very young age, despite all that I have witnessed in the past, I know you are not evil. I know that I love you. I love you for your kindness and strength, for your intelligence and stubbornness, I love everything that makes you who you are and that includes your magic. You once told me that some people are born with their magic, that some cannot help it, and I understand that you are one of those people. It would be wrong of me to have you punished for something that is beyond your control, especially when you are using your magic to help protect others.”

Hermione wasn’t entirely sure how to respond or react to his confession, she wasn’t entirely certain she’d fully processed it or if she’d just imagined the entire statement, replacing it with something, that deep down, she wanted to hear from him. It was all too much, it was too difficult to believe that he accepted her and her magic after all he’d been taught. He’d been taught to hate magic with the same ferocity that Pureblood supremacists hated Muggleborns and three months was not a long enough period of time to convince him to turn his back on his beliefs. And the only outward sign of reaction she could give was a slow blink.

Arthur released a sigh and his hands moved from grasping her upper arms until he cupped her face, tilting her head back a little before he tipped his head until their forehead’s pressed together and his eyes closed.

“Hermione, if I wished you harm, I would’ve told my father. With your help, I hope to one day feel confident enough to banish the laws forbidding the use of magic in Camelot, but I intend for there to still be punishments for those that use magic to harm and destroy others. I haven’t told my father and I don’t ever tend to and though it may sound heartless, only when my father passes will I be able to do this, but until then, I need you. I need you to show me the goodness of magic so I can be confident in my decision without feeling doubt. I need to be surrounded by your magic, to continue to witness your kindness. I need you to prove to me that I am making the right decision. Hermione, if I had bad intentions, why would I ask to marry you? I knew you had magic and I still wished to marry you. Does that not tell you of the person I am?... Please, say something, you are worrying me.”

Against her better judgement, she allowed her eyes to open when she felt him pull back and she was immediately caught in his gaze. Without thought, she dropped her skirts and raised her hands, folding them around his wrists. She wasn’t sure if she’d done it to pull his hands away from her face or to keep them in place. Not being able to stand his piercing gaze, her eyelids flittered closed and her jaw ticked, debating on her next words.

“I have never used magic against you or on you.”

“I never said you have or did,” he replied, sounding confused. “Why would you think that?”

“You told me you were once placed under a Love Spell.”

“Oh,” he muttered, “I remember the way I felt when I was under the Love Spell and it hardly compares to the way I feel for you. I remember feeling as though I was floating, my mind cloudy and unfocused but since meeting you, it is the exact opposite. For the first time, I feel I see the world clearly, I feel I understand more than I ever thought I could and I know my purpose, I know what I must do. Everything is now clear to me.”

“I can’t change who I am, I can’t change that I have magic.”

“I don’t want to change you, I don’t want you to change who you are.”

“I can’t suppress my magic. If I don’t exercise it regularly, it results in a build up, one that can be dangerous for me or anyone who might be close. I grew up practicing magic and since the war, I am usually quite good at hiding it, at holding back from using magic for things that I might do for myself but magic is mostly instinctual. I did not mean to protect Kenelm the way I did, it just happened. My magic sensed my panic, my worry for his safety and it acted to protect him. And when my magic is not instinctual, it is still in my nature to help others when I can and though I really shouldn’t have helped those that I did with my magic as I risked exposing myself, I couldn’t help it.”

“That is how I know you are good, Hermione. Even with the risk of exposure, of the threat of execution, you still helped to protect a stranger. You risked your own safety for that of a stranger’s.” She felt his thumbs swipe over her cheekbone and she tilted her head slightly, leaning into it. “Look at me, Hermione,” he pleaded.

Taking a breath and gathering her courage, her eyes opened, once more getting caught in the bright blue of his gaze.

“I was born the way I am.”

“I know, you don’t practice magic of the Old Religion.”

“No, I don’t. I think that blood and human sacrifice is barbaric and there is a reason it is frowned upon in Hogwarts. And whilst you might understand that I was born the way I am, what you don’t understand is that it is hereditary.”

“Excuse me?” His eyebrow arched in surprise.

“While there are some that are born to be the first magic user in their line, the majority or magic users are born to other magic users. My father... My brother,” she corrected, seeing the amused twitch of Arthur’s mouth. “He possessed magic but his wife did not. My father, Godric, he has magic, as did his father before him and his father before him and so on for as long as anyone can remember. My father is exceptionally powerful and our line is known to produce magic users. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?” She asked.

His head tipped to the side as he considered her question, searching for the answer.

“It is hereditary?”

“Yes,”

“And that means...” He trailed off, his eyes widening slightly.

“Yes, it does. It means that any children born to me will possess magic, just as I do and the rest of my ancestry.”

“All of them?”

“However many I may have, yes, all of them. My magical line is too strong for it to not pass onto my children.”

“And if the father doesn’t possess magic?”

“They will still possess magic, only one magical parent is required. From what I’ve learned from my father, my mother possessed magic, too, only her magic manifested itself in the rare gift of premonitions, she was a Seer. I’ve learned that my newly discovered step-mother doesn’t possess magic, but the baby she will soon birth will due to my father’s lineage.”

“That is something that might take some time to process,” he replied, blinking slowly before shaking his head.

“I have lied to you, Arthur.”

“About?” He arched an eyebrow.

“Hogwarts, it’s not just a Kingdom that accepts and welcomes magic, it _is_ a Kingdom of magic. Almost every citizen is a magic practitioner.”

His eyes widened comically. “And the other King and Queens that co-rule?”

“Yes, they are magic users, too. Hogwarts was founded as a safe haven, a place other magic users might live freely without fear, where they would be safe. It is protected by magic and it’s one of the reasons I was quite surprised to see Godric at all. Not only should your men not have been able to find it, let alone approach it, but I gave you the wrong direction of travel.”

“Excuse me?”

“Hogwarts is not a three month’s travel from Camelot, it is approximately six weeks on horse, less if travelling by a hippogriff. And it is not south but in fact north.”

“You deliberately lied about the location of Hogwarts?”

“Yes, I did. I didn’t want to lie to you but I need you to understand, I had to protect my Kingdom and its people. They are hidden for a reason.”

He blinked slowly and a snort sounded from him. “Well, I am glad the riders were able to intercept your father’s riding party during his travels.”

“It wasn’t an accident. My father was coming to Camelot, he knew I was here.”

“He did? How is that possible if he hasn’t seen you for so long?” His brow furrowed.

“Do you remember that hippogriff we saw in the woods?” She asked and he nodded thoughtfully. “Well, when she returned to Hogwarts, my father told me he recognised the magical signature that surrounded her, she led him to Camelot, to me.”

“Magical signature?”

“Every born magic user has a magical signature and it is unique to each individual. It can be used to identify which magic user cast a specific spell, or even to track an individual’s location.”

“Can you do this?”

“If I’ve been exposed to the individual’s magical signature before, yes. It is how my father was able to find me, not only was he aware of my magical signature, but I possess the Gryffindor magics, making our signatures similar. But please don’t ask me to do such a thing, not everyone wants their possession of magic to be known and it isn’t my place to reveal their secret or expose them for what they are.”

“I won’t, not unless it is necessary and you may refuse to help if you wish. I will not force you to do anything you don’t wish to do.”

“Thank you,” she sighed.

“Now that we no longer have secrets between us, might I have an answer to my proposal?” She nibbled at her lip and lowered her gaze. “Hermione, I love you. I don’t know how many times I have to say it for you to understand that I am telling you the truth. I understand why you didn’t tell me about your magic and I’m not upset or angry.”

“Have you thought this through, Arthur? _Really_ thought it through?”

“Yes,”

“Arthur,” she sighed, her eyes closing briefly. “Are you willing to keep my magic a secret not just from your father, the _King_ , but everyone else? Are you prepared to lie to protect me? Do you understand what will happen to me, to you, should it ever be revealed? I don’t want to put you in danger or for you to potentially damage your relationship with your father. When a witch marries, it is for life, there is magic involved. When the vows are spoken, it is recorded as a magical oath, something that can result in death if the vows are broken. It isn’t a spell or enchantment, it’s the magic within the witch or wizard, the very soul. Should we marry, if you break any vow you make, it is highly possible you will die. And children, Arthur? Are you ready to accept that they will possess magic?”

“I would die to protect you,” he promised, his expression serious and he tilted her head so she was forced to look at him. “I know my father, I know what he would do to you should he discover the truth, keeping your magic a secret? Lying to him? That is something I’ll gladly do to protect you. Being magically bound for life? Will that affect our relationship?”

“No, it won’t affect or influence any thoughts, feelings, decisions or actions. Its purpose is to bind the couple together, to ensure they are more aware and in tune with each other.”

“Then I see no issue with it. And magical children? I admit, that might take a little time to process but all that matters is I love you. You are the woman I want and need by my side in everyday life and when I take the throne. You are everything I need in a Queen and everything the citizens of Camelot need.”

“I don’t want to be Queen,” she voiced quietly.

“Unfortunately, me and the throne, we’re a package deal. You cannot have one without the other. I know you were not raised to rule as I was but you are the heir to your own throne, it is in your blood and I know you will be the greatest and most loved Queen that Camelot has ever seen. I know that no matter what may come or the trials I may face, you will give me the courage and strength to fight them. You are the greatest thing to ever walk into my life and I don’t want to let you go without a fight. I want you to be my wife.”

Hermione’s jaw ticked and her eyes closed before she finally used her grip on his wrists to pull his hands from her face, Hermione loosening her own grip and taking a step back from him. He didn’t follow and she missed his agonised expression as she turned her back, putting some space between them. With him being so close she hadn’t been able to think clearly and as her thoughts ran through her mind, she unknowingly began pacing.

Godric’s words about Fate filled her mind, Gwen’s words of Arthur needing a wife like her, Merlin’s words of him being of the belief that magic would return to Camelot because of her.

Perhaps that was true. Arthur had already confessed he wished to change the laws after his father’s passing and he’d confessed to loving her despite her possession of magic. If Merlin and Gwen were right then there was a good possibility of Godric being right, too. Fate always had a way of working things out and it seemed that she and Arthur had overcome many obstacles since meeting. Was it all to get to this point? She loved him, she truly did. Fate wouldn’t be so cruel to allow that to happen only to take it from her, would it? Not after all she’d suffered and sacrificed.

As she spun on her heel to pace in the opposite direction, the sun reflecting off a golden ribbon caught her eye, Hermione seeing the red and yellow bouquet of flowers that lay forgotten on the ground. Halting to a stop, she slowly lifted her head to see Arthur’s badly concealed worry and then she darted a quick glance around her, seeing absolutely no one, not even a worker in the vegetable patch which was so far off into the distance, it looked like a little speck. Turning her gaze to Arthur and wishing to see his reaction, she slowly raised her arm and held her hand out in the direction of the bouquet. Arthur didn’t even flinch when the bouquet soared through the air and right into her hand, Hermione catching it effortlessly as she closed her fingers around it and then brought the petals up to her face, breathing in its floral scent.

“When we first met, I knew there was something about you, something that made you different from the others,” she started, keeping her gaze locked on the flowers in her grasp lest she lose her courage. “You made quite the impression and that is difficult to do. When you were injured by the Questing Beast, I dropped everything I was doing so I could come to you. I admit that I had intended to come to Camelot to seek out an ingredient I needed to make a remedy for the ill children, but when I saw you, pale, unresponsive, _dying_ , it frightened me. _Really_ frightened me in a way I hadn’t felt since the war.”

“I know you were there,” he interrupted. “A few days after you left, I remembered something, I remembered your voice, I remembered you speaking to me, telling me to fight, to be strong, to be a King. Your voice is what allowed me to fight for as long as I did, I used your voice, the memory of you as an anchor. I am alive because you gave me something to hold on to.”

Her breath hitched at the revelation but she didn’t lift her gaze from the bouquet, she had more to say and she needed to get it out before she lost her courage.

“When I returned to Ealdor, I focused my attention on preparing the village for my leaving so I could return to Camelot. I came here for you, I had the feeling I was needed here and since my arrival, I have never felt more at home. I knew things between us were slowly shifting and it terrified me, I couldn’t allow myself to believe that you cared for me and I couldn’t allow myself to feel the same, so I did everything I could to distance myself from you without being rude or disrespectful and without hurting you. But you just wouldn’t stop. You wouldn’t stop being so kind and considerate, you wouldn’t stop being so protective. What you did to help with the medical practice, your time spent with the children, my birthday, the orphanage, our time spent together out of the public eye, our abduction... During all of this, you showed me that you are the man I always thought you could be. During all of this, I did something I didn’t want to do, something that terrifies me.”

“And that is?” He questioned, his voice surprisingly quiet, breathy.

“I fell in love with you,” she admitted softly, finally lifting her gaze to his surprised expression. “I love you, I really do. I love you so much the thought of you being harmed hurts, the thought of losing you hurts more than a dagger to the heart. I am terrified of loving you and then losing you. I am terrified that you will be taken from me.”

“Hermione, you won’t ever lose me.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she whispered, lowering her head when she felt tears sting at her eyes, threatening to spill.

“I swear, you won’t lose me,” he promised and then before she knew it, he’d closed the distance between them, his hand gently cupping her chin and tilting her head back, seeing her tear-filled eyes. “You love me?”

“I swear on my magic and with everything I have and everything I don’t, I love you. I never intended for this to happen. My being with you, it could put you in danger.”

“I would face thousands of opponents if it meant you were safe and we were together. A life without love is not a life worth living and I would rather have you no matter the danger it may bring me.”

“You’re making this incredibly difficult to protect you,” she sighed tiredly.

His mouth twitched. “I am taking a page out of your book. Being stubborn seems to work for you so I thought I might give it a try.”

“Arthur, you have to be entirely certain this is something you want.”

“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. I want you to be my wife and Queen.”

She nibbled her lip thoughtfully and though she tipped her head down, he simply lifted it again. “I truly don’t deserve you,” she whispered.

“Me? You are a one of a kind. Where else would I find a magical Princess that uses her magic for good and cares more about others than she does herself? I have been exposed to nobility all of my life and I’ve dozens of Princess over the years, all hoping for a marriage, but you, you are special and I know I’ll never meet another woman like you.”

“Arthur, I’ve warned you before, I am not always kind and compassionate. I have a darker side and though I don’t show it often, when I do, it is not pretty. I am just as must vengeful and vindictive as I am kind. When in my Kingdom, those who knew of my temper were quick to flee when they saw me in one of my moods.”

“A Queen needs to be kind, she needs to love and care for her people, but she must also be prepared to protect them. A Queen that is loved by her people but feared by her enemies is something Camelot needs. And as the years pass, I am certain I will learn to avoid your ire.”

“Please,” she snorted. “You’re just as bad as Sir Leon, you can’t help but tease until I snap.”

He grinned unabashedly before it fell from his face, his expression turning serious and his hand slipped from her chin to cradle the back of her neck, it soon being accompanied by the other hand, his fingers getting tangled in her wild curls, softer than he’d thought they’d be.

“I need an answer, Hermione. I believe I’ve waited long enough and I’ve explained myself the best I possibly can.”

This was it, the moment of truth. She just hoped everyone was right, that she _was_ Fated to be with Arthur and save him.

Her gaze locked with his, his bright blue eyes hopeful but anxious.

“Yes,”

“Yes?” He blinked slowly.

“Yes, I will marry you.”

It seemed to take him a moment to actually process her answer and the second he did, his eyes widened and his features lit up as his mouth pulled into the biggest smile she’d ever seen from him. As a beam of sunlight rained over them, Arthur’s eyes sparkling, his tanned skin glowing and his breeze swept hair looking a little blonder, he’d never looked handsomer.

A loud laugh left him and he drew his hands back, taking several steps away from her.

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” she laughed lightly, sniffling as she felt a tear spill down her cheek. Tears of joy.

“Really?” He repeated.

“Yes, I will be your wife,” she smiled.

“And Queen,” he added.

“I’m not completely happy about that part,” she grumbled and he laughed at her.

“Gods! I can’t believe it!” He exclaimed happily, all but bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Hermione released a shriek of surprise when she suddenly found herself being pulled into a tight hug but the moment Arthur buried his face against her neck, she found herself relaxing and she lifted her arms, encircling them around his neck, the bouquet of flowers still in her grasp. They were to be married; this was something they’d be able to do without it seeming improper, something she was grateful for because if she were honest, she’d grown to be a hugger, something that Molly Weasley had instilled upon her.

She felt his arms slide away from her until only his hands rested against the small of her back and he pulled back from her slightly, only enough to be able to look down at her while still being close enough that her arms were comfortably settled being hooked around the back of his neck.

His smile was blinding and when another tear fell down her cheek, Hermione let out a little laugh only for it trail off when he brought a hand up to cup her cheek, brushing the tear away with his thumb. And before she knew it, he’d lowered his head and she’d closed her eyes and stretched up on her tiptoes, their lips meeting for the first time.

It was a simple press of the lips and over within moments and when they separated, they glanced at one another, shared a smile and then her eyes fluttered closed when he moulded his mouth against hers with a little more pressure and no sign of him pulling away from her as quickly as he had before, something she wasn’t going to complain about.

If he was worried he was pushing her too far too quickly or that she’d be a nervous wreck, shy and hesitant, those worries soon faded when she confidently moved her mouth against him, the realisation that this wasn’t her first kiss, that she’d done this before hitting him in the stomach like a punch. Jealousy flared up within him but when he felt the hand that wasn’t currently holding the bouquet twist into the hair at the nape of his neck, it soon vanished. It didn’t matter, he reminded himself. She was to be his, his wife and Queen.

She was the first to draw back, a little gasp falling from her as she breathed in a large amount of air, her eyes remaining closed. He stared down at her, her pale skin lit by the sunlight and her wild hair showing hues of red and purple, her cheeks lightly tinted pink and her mouth a little plumper and redder. She truly was beautiful.

He pushed her hair back from her face and over her shoulder before his hand returned to her cheek, his thumb swiping over her cheekbone which is when her eyes opened, a little glassier than usual.

“What?” She asked quietly, no doubt seeing the smile he couldn’t keep from his face.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?”

The tint to her cheeks darkened and she cleared her throat. This one of the many things he loved about her, she _hated_ compliments. Most primped and preened and even expected them, but not her.

“I’ve been called many things in my life, but never beautiful.”

“They don’t see in you what I do.”

She tipped her head, leaning further into his touch and his smile widened at the sight as her eyes fluttered softly and then opened again.

“You know, there is one piece of business that is imperative we ensure is taken care of before we marry.”

“And that is?” He arched an eyebrow, having the feeling that her response wouldn’t be something he was expecting and that it would amuse him.

“Well, who is to be the one to write to Ealdor and inform little Tobyn than I can no longer marry him? You or me?”

He blinked at her slowly before his laughter burst from him and Hermione squealed and clung to him tightly when he lifted her off the ground, held her against him and spun in circles until she laughed and complained of dizziness. When he set her on the ground, she almost tripped and he was sure to hold her close until her balance returned, stepping back from her the moment she did.

She opened her mouth to ask what he was doing when he stepped back and brought his hand to his mouth, only she never got to voice her question and felt herself wincing when he placed his thumb and index finger in-between his lips and released an impressively loud whistle that went right through her.

“And what was that for?” She asked, seeing no one or thing around them.

He grinned and held his index finger up in a gesture for her to wait a moment and when she was about to repeat her question, she felt her eyebrows raising high on her forehead when she heard a bark she knew all too well. Twisting to look behind her, in the distance she saw the distinctive silver fur of her wolf glinting in the sunlight as he bounded towards them. She looked to Arthur in both surprise and question, since when did Akela take commands from him and since when he come running after being summoned like a common domestic pet?

Seeing his grin, she turned back to Akela, being reminded of just how fast he was capable of running when she’d seen the distance he’d crossed in such little time. As he grew close to the garden, he didn’t enter by passing under the archway rather he jumped over the fence, Hermione rolling her eyes at him. He halted to a stop beside Arthur, not her and he beamed, petting Akela on the head and muttering ‘good boy,’ in praise.

Much to her confusion, Arthur crouched down beside him and held his hand out expectantly only for the large wolf to open its mouth and gently deposit a velvet pouch into the palm of his hand, Arthur praising him once more and scratching him behind the ear before he rose to full height.

Not giving her the chance to comment on the new budding friendship they seemed to have, one she wasn’t aware of, he opened the pouch and pulled out its contents, Hermione’s eyes widening at the sparkle of the red and gold caught in the rays of the sun. Whilst the golden chain and gold encased teardrop ruby was quite a simple design, it was by no means cheap or small. It was the largest gemstone she’d ever seen and she’d been in Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault!

Her eyes darted between the necklace and Arthur’s expression, the Prince seeming to find her speechless response amusing.

“What...” Was all she managed and Arthur laughed.

“This is the official Pendragon token of betrothal,” he explained, briefly turning the ruby over to show the Pendragon crest stamped onto the back of the gold casing. “And you will wear it just as my mother did before she married my father. While I know you do not care for such materialistic things and you don’t like to do things that are expected of you, this is the one thing I must insist upon. Whilst you are protected because you are a visiting Royal, this signifies that you are my intended and should harm come to you, punishment will be far worse than death.”

“Arthur, I hardly doubt the people will harm me, I have been here quite a while now and no one, except for Thorley Hearte, has threatened let alone attempted harm.”

“Yes, while that may be true, we can’t always trust everyone and we must be on guard. There is always the risk of a visitor or outsider wishing to harm you, or seek revenge for something that may have happened in the past with my father. It has happened before where they have attempted to harm me to harm my father and they may do so again, they may attempt to harm you. There may be someone out there that wishes vengeance against me and they may harm you to hurt me.”

“Well, now that you know of my magic, I feel I don’t have to tell you I am quite capable of looking after myself.”

“I understand but if you are in the public eye, you can’t risk using your magic.”

“Arthur, I am rarely without my guards and whilst I have magic at my aid, I am capable of wielding a dagger.”

“I am not disputing that, I just wish for you to be more cautious. And you must wear this.”

He didn’t give her the opportunity to argue the fact and it was probably a good thing, Hermione thought, when he closed the distance between them and moved to stand behind her, hooking the necklace around her neck and Hermione moving her hair out of the way so he might fasten the clasp. Once done, he stepped back and Hermione lifted the large gemstone that was so big and heavy, the chain dug into the back of her neck.

“Would you mind if I made some adjustments?” She asked.

“In what way?” He arched an eyebrow.

Her brow furrowed in thought before she raised her other hand and waved it over the ruby twice, a blue hued glow forming before it disappeared, Hermione seeing Arthur’s arched eyebrow when the ruby no longer sat in the valley of her breasts along with her locket but rather below the hollow of her throat, appearing as a choker. Not only that, but she’d cast a Feather-Light Charm to remove the heavy weight and she’d added a little spell that would prevent her hair from getting tangled around the chain.

“What?” She asked, seeing his amused but impressed expression. “Not only is it no longer heavy, there is less chance of it getting caught on something and the chain snapping.”

“It suits you,” he commented.

She snorted. “No, it doesn’t. Whilst I’m partial to the colours, this is far too big for my tastes. It seems you Pendragons have the same qualities as Gryffindors, neither of us are subtle.” He laughed at her. “And since when are you and Akela such great friends?”

Arthur shrugged and reached out, running his hand through the wolf’s fur, the wolf that was sat obediently and had yet to move.

“You have been spending a lot of time with your father recently, Akela often wandered onto the training grounds after returning from hunting in the woods, and has since been following me around more than usual.” He wasn’t sure how to respond or react when she looked to the wolf suspiciously.

“And how did he know to be here? You and I both know he remained in my rooms.”

He smiled. “I may have spoken to him last night and had Merlin give him the necklace after we left your rooms, as I was hopeful you’d accept my proposal. I have always understood he is a smart animal but after today, I think he might be the most intelligent I’ve ever met, he’s certainly smarter than some of my Knights,” he said, snorting when Akela seemed to sit straighter at the compliment. “But now, I believe we should return to the castle.”

“Yes, I imagine Michel and Emerick are beside themselves with worry,” she rolled her eyes and he chuckled, knowing it was true.

As much as he hadn’t wanted to make them her personal guards in the beginning, now he realised it was one the best decisions he’d ever made. They weren’t just her guards concerned for her safety as it was their jobs, they were more like over protective brothers and he knew he could trust them to keep her safe not only from those who wished her harm but herself.

Arthur took Hermione’s hand in his before settling it in the crook of his elbow and with Akela by his side and Hermione holding the bouquet he’d gifted her, they left the garden and made their return to the castle, only when they reached the group of trees near the vegetable patches, they both halted to a stop and blinked slowly and then looked to one another in surprise. This hadn’t been a part of Arthur’s plan, she knew from the equally surprised and confused look on his face.

Before them stood a queue of people with approximately one hundred meters distance between them. Together they continued their walk, reaching the first person in the queue, Merlin.

“Your Highness, Sire,” he grinned widely, bowing to them both before rising to full height and producing a red rose from behind his back, holding out to Hermione. “Congratulations,” he said, Hermione taking the rose from him in surprise.

They both thanked him and he stepped back, allowing them to continue until they reached Gwen.

“Your Highness, Sire,” she beamed a smile and curtseyed before offering Hermione a white rose. “Congratulations,”

After saying their thanks, they continued being stopped and receiving the same treatment from _all_ of the Knights, Sir Leon wriggling his eyebrows suggestively and Hermione kicking him in the shin with Arthur bursting into laughter. When finished with the Knights, they came across Emerick and then Michel, both grinning at her knowingly. She’d almost kicked them, too. As they neared the castle, they came across Charles, Harrow and Farley, Charles smirking when Hermione bristled at his addressing of her by her royal title and Harrow and Farley grinning at her. By the time they reached Kenelm, Hermione’s arms were laden with so many red and white roses and her bouquet Arthur had to carry some as well and even Akela had a rose in his mouth. The last person on their journey almost broke her heart.

When he saw them approaching, he didn’t wait for them to reach him rather he ran to meet them, dropping into the cutest little bow she’d ever seen as he held the final white rose out to her and grinned up at her toothily.

“I’m happy you’re getting married. You’re the best person I’ve ever met and you deserve to be happy,” the almost six-year-old spoke.

Hermione felt tears spring to her eyes, especially when he hugged her around the waist tightly, not seemingly bothered about nearly losing his eye to the rose stems, before he stepped back, bowed again and then ran off in the direction of his brothers.

“Are you alright?” Arthur asked.

“Yes,” she sniffled. “It’s just, that little boy means the absolute world to me and...” She trailed off, sniffing.

“I understand,” he nodded, not pushing further on the matter.

They continued the short distance to the castle and when they reached the entrance courtyard, they both halted to a stop when they saw King Godric and King Uther stood before each other, talking amongst themselves as they shared a laugh.

“Ah, here they are now,” King Godric said joyfully, turning towards them and beaming a wide smile, looking to his daughter and her arms being laden with so many roses he could barely see her face. “I believe congratulations are in order.”

Arthur blinked in surprise, especially when he saw his father smile, too. When was the last time that had happened?

“Thank you,” he and Hermione replied simultaneous, having said it so many times over the last half an hour it was engraved in their brains. 

King Godric approached Hermione and he boomed a laugh so loud it took him by surprise, before scooped the many roses from her arms and then passed them off to a guard who had followed behind him, smiling down at his daughter.

“You are happy, little cub?”

“Yes, happier than I’ve been in a long time. I need to thank you for talking some sense into me.”

“That is what fathers are for. If I cannot help you decipher the feelings in your heart and broke you free from the entrapment of your mind, then I am a failure.”

“Thank you, I truly appreciate it,” she replied before she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face against his chest.

Whilst Godric wasn’t much taller than Hermione, his broad shoulders and chest and massive hands made her look tiny against him as he folded his arms around her back, his features softening in a way that didn’t seem possible.

“You are my daughter, I only want for you to be happy. You have suffered some truly terrible things and more than most...” Godric’s voice hardened a little before he sighed tiredly and Arthur’s brow furrowed, wondering the meaning of his words and being sure to file a note to speak to Hermione about it when they next had the chance. “You deserve a life of happiness and to be married to a man who will love and protect you with everything he has. The saddest day in a father’s life is the day he is expected to watch his daughter marry, and I am just glad I know you will be in good hands,” he finished, sending him a look of warning over the top of Hermione’s head that Arthur admitted was quite frightening, especially when he was reminded that he had magic just as Hermione did.

Clearing his throat, Arthur nodded and then approached his father, the King lifting his hand and clapping him on the shoulder, sending King Godric an amused glance before turning back to him.

“Well, you have gotten the only woman you have ever wanted for a wife. How do you feel?”

“Relieved,” he replied. “I was hoping she would say yes but there was always the possibility she would decline my proposal.”

“Yes, they certainly have some strange traditions in Hogwarts, don’t they?” His father mused, looking to King Godric thoughtfully.

 _If only he knew_ , thought Arthur.

“How did you know? King Godric said he would only speak to you after I had spoken with Hermione.”

“It seems he was quite certain his daughter would accept your proposal and when he learned of your plans for this day, he came to me. There a few details that need to be considered and discussed but all should be taken care of before he takes his leave. I am not sure if I should be impressed or annoyed that you disobeyed my orders, Arthur,” his father said.

He was saved from responding when Godric approached, Hermione tucked into his side and looking tiny.

“Please, Uther,” King Godric chuckled. “Give the boy some credit, I would have much rather it have been him that broached the subject than you, after all, he is to be the one I am entrusting my daughter’s happiness and safety to. We Gryffindors hold courage above all else and he showed me he has it.”

Uther tipped his head, not wishing to say more on the matter and then his eyes turned to Hermione.

“Congratulations, Princess,” he said, Hermione placing her hand in his and stepping closer when he held his hand out expectantly. He bowed over her hand and she curtseyed before they both rose to full height. “It seems I can formally welcome you to the family and I am happy my son was able to find a woman such as yourself.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she replied, her cheeks tinting pink. “But, I feel it is I who is the lucky one. There are few men in this world that I believe would be able to stand against Arthur.”

“Perhaps you are correct. Now,” he released her hand and she folded hers before her. “There is to be an announcement in an hour and a celebratory feast this evening.”

“Must we?” Hermione all but pouted and Arthur’s mouth twitched in amusement though he was quite surprised to see the gesture mimicked by his father.

“Yes, Princess, we must. If there is ever an occasion that calls for a feast this is it.”

“You know I do not like them, they make me highly uncomfortable. I would not put it past you to hold a feast simply to annoy me.”

“I am a King, do you truly believe I would be so petty.”

She folded her arms over chest, squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Yes, yes I do.”

King Uther’s mouth tugged into a smile and Arthur shared a humourous glance with King Godric. It seemed that not only had Hermione changed him, but his father, too.

As Hermione soon launched into a tirade about her hatred for feasts and his father stood and politely nodded, doing his best to keep his composure, Arthur and King Godric found themselves standing off to the side.

“Congratulations,”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” he replied. “I admit, I was a little worried she would reject my proposal.”

“But you had no reason to fear, just as I knew you wouldn’t. I knew from the moment I saw you together that you loved my daughter and she loved you.”

“Well, she did reject me, _twice_.” He looked around, seeing there was no one close enough to overhear but he lowered his voice anyway, moving a little closer to the King so he’d be able to hear. “I feel it best I be honest with you, I know she has magic.” If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. “I am not going to tell my father. I will protect her from him. I have witnessed her use it to protect children and old women, to save my life. I know she is good and she would never use it to harm someone.”

“You know of her magic and you still wish to marry her?” He questioned, his voice just as quiet as his had been.

“Yes. I am not my father. I admit that I once agreed with his ruling but since meeting Hermione, she’s been telling me of the magic she’s witnessed and been surrounded by. She’s told me that some magic users are born as they are, she admitted that Hogwarts was a Kingdom of magic were magic users were protected from those that wished them harm. I know she was born with her magic, just as I know it’s hereditary and that you posses it, too. She explained that any children she births will have magic and though I know it will take a little time to process the information, I still love her and I still wish to have children with her. When I am King and my father passes, I wish to change the laws, I wish to accept magic users but those who use their magic for evil will be punished. As of now, I only trust Hermione’s magic as it’s the only good magic I’ve been exposed to but I hope to witness more.”

King Godric tipped his head slightly. “Well, Arthur, you are always welcome to visit Hogwarts where I might show you what it is we protect.”

“Thank you, Your Grace, I should like to one day do so. Hermione often talks about the beauty of your banquet hall.”

“Yes, it is truly a sight to behold,” he nodded. “But, now that you know of my magic, I feel it only proper I give you the warning I wished to give you before. Should you break your vows, I will rain down upon you the full force of the Gryffindor magics.”

Admittedly, he was afraid, not entirely by the threat as his expression was quite menacing. He was certain it would send men in battle running in the opposite direction.

“And my daughter, she is highly intelligent and her magic and knowledge grows by the day. I am ensuring that she is well equipped in _all_ forms of magic before I take my leave.”

“I would never hurt her.”

“I sincerely hope you don’t, whilst she might be the kindest woman you may ever meet, she is terrifyingly vindictive.”

~000~000~000~

“Thank you all for coming this afternoon,” King Uther’s voice carried, commanding the attention of those that stood before them.

Whilst they stood on the balcony overlooking the entrance courtyard, guards lined the walls and gate and there were so many people present they spilled out into the city. The nobles were stood front and centre with the rest of the citizens behind them, Hermione having made sure her four charges were escorted to the front so they might better see her despite them already knowing the news.

King Uther stood forward with Arthur on his right, one hand resting atop his sword and the other the small of her back whilst Hermione was tucked in his side, her arms folded and resting against her stomach. Godric stood on her opposite side, a smile on his face and his hands clasped behind his back, barely being able to stand still. One thing she’d learned about him, he was unable to remain still for more than two minutes. He was like an over hyper child.

“Today I make an announcement, one I believe will be the most important of my life, for this day I wish to announce that my son, crowned Prince Arthur Pendragon, is to wed the daughter of King Godric Gryffindor from Hogwarts, Princess Hermione Gryffindor.”

It was silent for a small moment before cheer, applause and shouts sounded, it being so loud Hermione winced and turned away from it a little. She felt Arthur’s hand slip from the small of her back and around her waist, tugging her a little closer to him.

“I’m fine,” she said, after seeing his worried gaze. “It seems they are quite excited by the news.”

“And this is surprising to you?” He arched an eyebrow. “I have told you before. The people of Camelot _adore_ you. A Queen must be loved by her people and feared by her enemies.”

“One out of two isn’t bad,” she replied, slowly feeling herself relax despite the cheers and applause not slowing.

“I know you are fierce, I have witnessed it and you will have plenty opportunities to prove it to others, too.”

“Yes, I can’t wait to wipe the smile off Sir Leon’s face, if I save his life _twice_ , perhaps he’ll stop teasing me on my height.”

“I highly doubt it, that is something I believe he will be doing even on his death bed.”

“Fabulous,” she grumbled and he chuckled at her.

~000~000~000~

She met him in the corridor that was around the corner from the banquet hall. She approached being escorted by her father and with her wolf by her side, but he paid this no mind. He couldn’t focus on anything but her.

She looked breathtaking. Her hair was left to hang down her back in wild curls as was usual, but amongst some of the locks were red roses artfully entwined and the same red and gold tiara he’d seen her wear before sat atop her head. Her gown, he’d never seen anything like it. It was golden silk which looked to have been poured over her, it conforming to her body and then floating to the ground. As usual her arms were covered down to her wrists and her shoulders, collar bone and neck were on display, the golden colour of her gown drawing even more attention to the Pendragon betrothal ruby that sat below her throat. Where did she get such dresses? Who made them?

He barley paid any attention to King Godric but the royal didn’t seem to be offended as he amusedly bid them farewell and continued onto the banquet hall. Only when he heard him being announced and he saw Hermione shift on her feet did he realise he’d been staring for an uncomfortable amount of time.

“You look beautiful,” he commented.

Her cheeks tinted pink as she smiled at him. “Thank you, I see we match. Was that intentional?” She asked, seeing the red, gold and black ensemble he was sporting.

“We share house colours, we are always likely to match,” he replied.

“Oh, how the royal seamstress will love that, it makes for coordinating so much easier,” she said and he chuckled at her.

He didn’t say anything else as he held his hand out and she silently place it in his, setting it in the crook of his elbow as they journeyed the remaining distance to the banquet hall, the largest in the castle as the guest list was a little larger than usual.

Not only did they have the nobility and the Knights in attendance, but King Godric’s party and Hermione had insisted on her four charges being present, something she hadn’t allowed his father to refuse. She said it was a compromise, either her charges were invited or she boycotted the feast. His father had been visibly exasperated whilst King Godric had laughed until his eyes watered.

They stepped into the banquet hall, applause ringing out the moment they did so and Arthur stood taller, not to correct his posture but because he was proud to be marrying Hermione. As they made their way down to the royal table, he caught sight of a few less than pleased glances from the noblewomen he’d rejected for marriage and though he knew they didn’t like Hermione because she had gotten something they’d wanted, he knew they weren’t dim-witted enough to attempt something. Whilst they were noble and had some power and wealth, not only was he the crowned Prince of Camelot, but Hermione was a Princess, she out-ranked them in society.

Arthur helped Hermione into her seat and then took his own beside her and his father, Godric being on the opposite side with Morgana being sat next to him. The moment the feast started, Hermione seemed to relax as she selected items for Akela first and then filled her own plate, Arthur being glad to see she seemed to have returned to her regular food portions. This was the first time he was eating with her in weeks and he’d been worried she was under eating.

Conversation flowed as easily as it usually did and before he knew it, they were halfway through the feast only the room slowly fell into silence and the reason behind it became obvious when they lifted their heads.

No one ever approached the royal table unless they were given permission to do so first or the feast was over and they came to pay their respects before taking their leave, but approaching the table was Kenelm, the youngest of Hermione’s charges.

A frown of worry settled on Hermione’s face and she pushed her chair out a little before motioning for the young boy to walk around the table and come up beside her. He was dressed smarter than he ever remembered seeing him and knew it was Hermione’s doing. He wondered if she’d bought them, had them made or if she’d used magic.

“What is wrong?” She asked the young boy softly.

“My tummy hurts,” he frowned.

Hermione’s brow furrowed and she raised her hand, pressing the back of it against his forehead to gauge his temperature.

“Well, your temperature appears to be normal. Have you eaten?”

“Yes but only a little bit. I don’t like it, it tastes wrong.”

“That is because you are not used to eating such foods,” Hermione explained.

Whilst she’d ensured Charles and his brothers would never again go hungry or without food, the food she prepared or that was bought from the marketplace would hardly compare to the rich foods the royals ate. Rich food tended to be heavy and full of flavour, something that would upset his stomach.

“Come here,” she said, pushing her chair a little further backwards and holding her arms out, the young boy obviously recognising the gesture as he soon clambered onto her lap and buried his face against her as if he might just go to sleep right then and there.

Hearing the startled gasps she turned to face forward, seeing the surprised and horrified expressions of those before her whilst his Knights looked amused. She then turned her eyes to his father and Arthur did the same, seeing his expression being a mix of disapproval, horror, amusement and surprise. Her father, King Godric, simply gave her a proud smile.

“Is there a problem?” She arched her eyebrow challengingly.

His father cleared his throat. “Is that really appropriate?”

“He is a young child that is at a feast in which has already surpassed his bed time and the foods that are served are too rich for his stomach to handle. Are you really going to deny him the need for comfort from the only woman he has in his life? Perhaps I might take him to one of the guest chambers until his brothers are ready to take their leave,” she smiled innocently.

Arthur hid his snort by reaching for his goblet and taking a sip of ale. Hermione was always look for an excuse to leave the feasts early and he wouldn’t be surprised if she’d put the young child up to lying for her, and his father, seeming to come to this realisation himself, smiled.

“No, no, he is quite welcome to stay with you should he need your comfort, this is a feast in honour of your betrothal, we wouldn’t want you to miss it, would we?”

Hermione didn’t respond with words but rather a glare before she turned her eyes back to the little boy in her lap, shifting in her chair slightly and then lifting her hand, brushing it through his hair and muttering something into his ear. Arthur tuned out his father’s chuckle and soon the noise picked up again though he was aware glances were still thrown in Hermione’s direction.

“Merlin,” Hermione called softly, not wanting to disturb the little boy in her lap who was slowly falling asleep.

“Your Highness?” He questioned, stepping out of the shadows and darting a glance to Kenelm, looking both worried and amused. “Might I please have some ginger and water?”

“Of course, Your Highness,” he bowed before disappearing into the shadows and whilst she waited for him to return, Hermione nibbled on cheese from her plate and the other hand held the little boy against her.

When Merlin returned, she thanked him and took her requested items, placing the ginger on a clean plate and taking her knife and cutting off a smaller section. It took a little effort to wake the slumbering child and then some convincing to get him to eat the ginger but once he did, he drank the water she offered and then he settled back against her.

Hermione pulled him into conversation as though nothing had changed and Arthur marvelled at her ability to speak with him, to continue eating her food and to comfort the child on her lap all at once, neither favouring one or the other but somehow equally dividing her attention between the three. Before either of them knew it, the little boy was feeling better and was eating again but only foods Hermione would offer him, mainly the meats and breads. Arthur couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his mouth when she and Kenelm would whisper between one another before they burst into giggles, or when the young boy would feed food to Akela, the large wolf gently nibbling his fingers and then licking his hand until he giggled and then he’d sprawl himself on the ground in positions that had peals of laughter filling the room.

“Can I try it?”

“No,”

“Why?” The young boy pouted.

“You are five-years-old, it will upset your stomach and you won’t like it.”

“I will, I promise.”

Hermione rolled her eyes before she reached for her barely touched goblet of ale and then handed it to him, the young child grinning victoriously until he brought it to his mouth and took a sip.

“Yuck! That’s disgusting!” He exclaimed.

“I did tell you,” she replied amused, accepting the goblet and setting it back on the table.

“Why do you drink that? It’s worse than Charles’ cooking?”

She snorted. “I don’t like it either but sadly there isn’t much else to choose from and sometimes, an adult needs something a little stronger than water.”

“But water makes you big and strong,” he frowned in confusion.

“Yes, ale makes people drunk and stupid,” she said, sniggers sounding in the room.

Though it was clear they were scandalised by the thought and sight of the child perching in her lap at the royal table, the occupants of the hall had soon been charmed by their admittedly amusing interactions.

~000~000~000~

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Hermione,” said Charles, his eyes darting about the corridor mistrustfully.

“No, it’s a great idea. I don’t want you walking all the way into the centre of the city by yourself with three young boys, one of them who is already asleep,” she tipped her head towards the young boy that was perched on her hip, his arms wrapped around her neck and his head pressed against her shoulder as he slept. “And the other two who are barely still standing. You will be safe here, I’ll be sure to arrange for breakfast to be brought to you and we will leave the castle together in the morning, there is something I wish to show you regarding the making of the sickness remedy.”

“Hermione...”

“Arthur?” She interrupted and turned her head to him, seeing he was stood a little further down the corridor, waiting to escort her to her chambers.

“Yes?”

“Would you mind if Charles and his brothers spend the night in the castle?”

“No, if I am honest, I would prefer it,” he answered, knowing how protective Hermione was of her charges and it wouldn’t be safe for him to be taking three young boys home given how late it was.

“See?” She said smugly. “How many rooms are on my floor?”

“On your floor or on your corridor?”

“Really?” Her attention snapped to him and he nodded amusedly. “I’d forgotten just how many guest chambers the castle had. On my corridor,” she clarified.

“Eight, your chambers are in the centre. The rooms and beds are large enough that you might all fit in one, or would you prefer separate rooms?” Arthur asked, turning his question to the eldest brother.

“One room,” he replied, “One room, please and thank you for your hospitality, Sire,” he corrected after Hermione’s narrowed-eyed gaze.

“You’re welcome,” Arthur nodded, sending a knowing glance Hermione’s way before he led them towards Hermione’s chambers but stopping one door before. “Hermione’s chambers are to the left if you should need her,” he told them before opening the door and stepping back, allowing them to enter.

Whilst the three brothers took in their surroundings in clear surprise, the room being bigger than their new home alone, Hermione crossed to the made bed and pulled back the thick blanket before laying the young child in the centre and removing his shoes, covering him with the blanket and then stepping back.

“As Arthur said, should you need anything I am one door away. I will come by in the morning, good night, boys.” She didn’t wait for a response as she left the room and closed the door behind her. “Thank you,”

“I know those boys are important to you and allowing them to walk home given the late hour, cold and the number of drunks that wander the streets wouldn’t have been safe. I’d rather they be here than risk their safety.”

The quickly reached her rooms and Hermione opened the door to allow Akela inside but before she entered, she turned to face Arthur, seeing him watching her intensely.

“What is it?” She frowned in concern only for that to be replaced by surprise when he closed the distance and lowered his head, his mouth pressing against hers.

When his arms settled around her, hers came up to fold around his neck, the fabric of his cape being clenched between her fists. His arms retreated from holding her close to him and his hands found their way to the back of her neck, her curls tangling around his fingers. When she felt her lungs burning, she pulled her mouth from his, both of them staring at one another, their breathing coming out breathier than usual and their lips looking a little redder.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he admitted.

“And was it worth the wait?”

“Definitely worth the wait,” he muttered, his mouth brushing hers with every word he spoke.

The sound of voices had them both releasing the other of their holds and they took a step back.

“Good night, Arthur,”

“Good night, Hermione,” he replied, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it as was their tradition before he turned and left down the corridor.

Hermione stepped into her room and closed the door behind her, lighting a few of the torches with wave of her hand until there was enough light that she would be able to see where she was walking. She slumped back against the door and released a sigh, her eyes darting to the wolf that lay on his pile of blankets, his expression mimicking that of an arched eyebrow.

“Oh, don’t be so judgmental, I’m happy, I’m in love and I’m getting married, something you helped him with,” she told her wolf.

Her eyes darted about her room, being reminded of the many roses and flower bouquets that covered every surface of her room and some of her floor space, too. She was convinced that Arthur had purchased the vendor’s stock for the entire week, there were just too many for her to believe otherwise. Not only had he had a garden constructed solely for her and then gifted it to her, but he’d turned her room into a greenhouse.

He was definitely a keeper.

She crossed to her bed and then childishly jumped onto the mattress until she sank into the pillows, unable to keep the smile off her face.

She was getting married.

She was going to be married to King Arthur.

How the world would forever be changed, she was sure of it.

~000~000~000~

When Arthur went to bed that night, he fell asleep to the image of a blue-eyed, brown-haired boy sitting on his mother’s lap at the dinner table whilst they handfed food to a large wolf and giggles and laughter filled the room.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 25

"Hermione?" Arthur questioned in surprise, blinking slowly before a smile pulled at his mouth as he pulled the door closed behind him.

At the sight of his smile, she felt her own mouth respond with a bright smile and she pushed away from the wall and unfolded her arms as she closed the little distance between them in the corridor.

"Good morning, Arthur," she greeted brightly.

"I thought you would have taken the children back to the city centre."

"Yes, I have already done so. I've been awake for several hours and in that time, I've had breakfast with the children, taken them home _and_ shown Charles what I wished to regarding the sickness remedy."

"Have you been waiting for long?" His brow furrowed in concern.

"No," she shook her head with a smile. "I knew you would emerge soon and I didn't wish to disturb you, Heaven knows you need your rest."

"Hermione, for you I have all the time in the world," he muttered softly, his hand coming up to her cheek, his fingertips ghosting over her skin and her head tilted into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment, making him smile. "And since you waited so patiently for me, what can I do for you, Princess?"

Her mouth twitched in amusement. "Well, _My Prince_ ," she emphasised teasingly, "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I was wondering if you might like to spend this day with me."

His eyebrow arched. "Oh?"

"Hmmm," she hummed, "Given how emotionally exhausting yesterday was, I thought we have both earned a day of relaxation. And if you were to be amenable, there is something I wish to share with you."

"I admit, you've now piqued my curiosity. And what do you wish to show me?"

"It's something that must be done without an audience."

His mouth twitched slightly and his eyes dropped from her pretty and kind features down to the gold encased ruby that hung around her neck, contrasting against her pale skin.

She was to be his wife and Queen. She had agreed to be his forever. God, did he love her.

"That explains the absence of your guards," Arthur mused.

Whilst he knew they didn't tend to accompany her when she was inside the castle walls, he'd seen them hiding in the shadows and following her, likely being suspicious that she was going to do something dangerous. Given their lack of presence, it meant Hermione had dismissed them from their duties for that day, having planned to spend the day with him, and who was he to refuse the woman he loved?

"I shall need a little time to speak to my father and inform him of our plans."

"Of course," she smiled up at him. "I shall be waiting for you in the kitchens."

"The kitchens?" He questioned in both surprise and a little bit of fear.

The cooks were _very_ territorial and he knew they hadn't been pleased by his presence when he'd last visited for his plans to cook for Hermione on her birthday, but with him being who he was, they'd remained quiet but that hadn't meant it was difficult to feel their stares or horror and concern.

"Yes, Arthur, the kitchens," she confirmed. "Don't tell me the Prince is afraid," she teased.

"Of course not," he stood taller, his features setting in determination and his chest pooling with warmth when she giggled at him. Hermione never giggled.

"Very well, and prepare yourself."

"Why?" He arched an eyebrow.

"Today, I'm going to put yours through your paces. And should you impress me, there is a prize."

"Prize?" He perked up. If there was one thing he loved, it was winning.

"Yes, a prize," she repeated. "Don't keep me waiting too long, My Prince," she said, slowly drawing back from him before turning and walking down the corridor with her hands clasped and resting on her abdomen.

It took everything he had in him not to run after her, pull her to him, bury his hands in her wild hair and kiss her, especially given the public setting of the corridor.

~000~000~000~

As Arthur approached the kitchens, he felt uncertainty and he grew uncomfortable but being reminded that Hermione's family held courage above all other traits, he squashed those feelings down and gathered his own, reminding himself that whatever Hermione had planned, she wished to spend the day with him, their first day together as betrotheds. Arthur knew that soon enough, the castle would be in a flurry of movement as planning for the wedding begin and when that happened, Hermione's attention would soon be taken from him and put onto other matters, so it was wise that he didn't take the time he did have with her for granted.

As he steeled his nerves and took a breath, he reached out and opened the large door before he stepped into the stuffy kitchen, a myriad of smells invading his nose, all movement halting to a stop and all of the voices quietening as all eyes turned to him.

He felt himself freeze under their surprised but still less than pleased expressions at the sight of him and as his eyes quickly scanned the room, sighing in relief when he saw Hermione tucked away in the corner of the room, and if sensing his gaze, she lifted her head and offered him a smile. He felt himself relax a little.

"Good morning," he greeted the kitchen staff with a nod of his head before he confidently strode forward, manoeuvring between the cooking stations and workers before he reached Hermione.

"That was quite the entrance," she teased him before she looked about the room, almost challengingly and then movement and chatter resumed. He would've thought they'd forgotten they were there if it weren't for him being able to feel the many eyes that stole glances their way. "Are you ready?"

"For?" He prompted.

"Today, Arthur, I'm going to teach you how to bake a cake."

"Excuse me?" He questioned in surprise.

He hadn't known what to expect when she said she wished to spend the day with him and for him to meet her at the kitchens, but it most certainly wasn't her wishing to teach him how to bake a cake.

"A cake, Arthur," she clarified, giving him an amused expression. "Not to worry, I don't plan to spend all day in here. I just wish for us to have something sweet for after lunch."

"Lunch?" He tipped his head.

"Yes, Margery," Hermione began, tipping her head in the direction of the eldest cook, her face swallowed by wrinkles and her hair thinning and grey.

Arthur could admit that he didn't know the names of the kitchen staff, but Margery was the one exception. She'd been working at the castle since before he was born and although she was slow on her feet and hard of hearing, Arthur knew from experience she was the best baker they had, it being one of the reasons his father hadn't yet dismissed her from her duties despite her age. The King had a bit of a soft spot for her.

Hermione continued, "Has offered to make a little luncheon basket for us, and in return, we are going to bake two cakes, one for us and one for Margery to take home with her later this evening. And not only that, I'm going to be sharing with you my secret recipe, something my mother... Sister-in-law, taught me," she corrected.

"And the prize?" He asked, arching an eyebrow.

She laughed. "Not yet, that is to occur later in the evening. You've cooked for me, and now I'm going to bake for you, but you're going to help me. It's quite simple, as you can see, I already have all that we require," she gestured to the table before her, sitting the ingredients and bowls. "We only require flour, eggs, milk, a pinch of salt and honey, and twenty-five minutes cooking time. Are you up to the challenge?"

"Of course," he nodded, folding his arms over his chest and standing taller. "I can't help but notice they do not seem... Disturbed by your presence," he commented, noting to the fact she had her own cooking station and no one seemed to be giving her a second glance, if only because he was there.

"Yes, we have an understanding. They allow me to use the kitchen and I stay out of their way, not only that, but I'm here often enough preparing meals for the children. They've learned to tolerate me, and let's be honest, before, I was just a visiting Royal, it would have been rude to ask me to leave but now, I'm to be their Queen."

His mouth pulled into a smile. "Yes, you are," he agreed softly, his eyes darting down to the ruby at her throat before lifting to her face.

"Once we are done here, we will take our leave and spend the remainder of the day together. So, My Prince, if you would please wash your hands and pull up your sleeves, we shall get started."

~000~000~000~

Arthur admitted that despite having dreaded the thought of Hermione trying to teach him to bake a cake, not only had he enjoyed himself, it had been an easy recipe to follow. Though he suspected it had only been so easy and he'd enjoyed himself so because Hermione had been the one to teach him and she'd been patient with him, slowly demonstrating the correct measurements for each ingredient before adding them to the bowl and allowing him the chance to mimic her actions before she moved onto the next step.

By the time they were ready to put their cakes to bake, they were laughing and trying to be as quiet as possible as the kitchen staff sent them annoyed glances for disturbing them. He was covered in flour, Hermione had flour on her nose and forehead and broken eggshells and sticky spoons littered the table.

"I'll be right back," Hermione promised, lifting both of the cake tins and taking them over to one of the empty ovens, slotting them in carefully before she returned to his side with a damp cloth in hand. "Let's get you cleaned up, I can barely see your face for flour," she said amused before reaching up and swiping the damp cloth over his face, Arthur holding still and allowing her to do so. "It is a mystery how you managed to make such mess," she shook her head.

"It wasn't my fault," he defended. "You did not warn me of the cloud that would form when measuring the flour."

She laughed before drawing her hand back, nodding to herself in satisfaction. "Much better."

Silently, he reached for her hand and took the cloth from her, lifting it to her face and swiping it over her nose and forehead, a fond smile tugging at his mouth.

"You are not the only one to have made a mess."

"Yes, well, it's no fun if you bake a cake and you do not find yourself sticky with honey or covered in flour," she replied, taking the cloth from him before she quickly set to cleaning the cooking station until it was free of the mess and spotless, not wishing to upset or anger the kitchen staff.

Arthur leaned against the table and watched her as she cleaned and once done, she stood beside him, quickly falling into light conversation until the cakes were finished baking. Hermione excitedly retrieved them from the oven and set them on the table, allowing them to cool.

"I admit, they do smell good," said Arthur, eyeing the golden-brown sponge hungrily when his stomach grumbled, no matter of the fact he'd eaten a hearty breakfast no fewer than two hours ago. It smelled _really_ good.

"And it is Heaven on a plate," Hermione promised.

"If that is the case, I might have the bakers use your recipe so it might be served at all of our feasts and celebrations."

"Oh, I wouldn't say it is to that high a standard," she waved him off.

He didn't believe her. He remembered the delicious tea she'd given him in Ealdor, something she'd created herself. And he remembered the broth she'd made and despite the lack of resources she'd had, she'd still made a tasty meal. He could only imagine what she'd be capable of now that she had full access to the meats and vegetables brought to the castle to feed the royals.

He watched as she reached out and gently touched the tops of the cakes, hissing slightly in pain before she brought both index fingers up to her mouth and blew cold air over them.

"They're still a little too hot to take out of the tins but they need to cool," she told him, seeing his amused smile.

After a few minutes, she was able to remove them from their tins and she set them on plates, allowing them to cool whilst she quickly washed the last of the bowls and tins, dried them and put them back in their rightful places.

"That should do," she nodded after quickly checking the temperature of the cakes, and then she wrapped them both, taking one over to Margery's station, having a quick conversation with the older woman and then returning to his side with a basket of food, which she slipped the cake into. "I do believe that is everything, shall we leave?"

He nodded and slipped his hand to the small of her back, guiding her out of the kitchens and through the castle, noting she was leading them towards the entrance courtyard.

"And where are we going?" He asked curiously.

"Well, seeing as your father is still refusing to allow us to leave the city without guards, I thought we might visit the stream. It's a lovely day for it, wouldn't you agree?"

"Perfect," he nodded, feeling the heat of the sun warming his skin each time they passed a window.

As they descended the steps from the castle and to the courtyard, Arthur blinked in surprise at the sight of Merlin stood beside Llameri as he held her reins, before he looked to Hermione questioningly.

"I may have happened upon Merlin this morning when he was retrieving your breakfast, and asked if he might ready Llameri when he had the chance."

"He is _my_ manservant," he replied amused.

"Yes, but he is my friend," she argued, sticking her tongue out childishly before she quickened her steps to reach Merlin, Arthur snorting and shaking his head in amusement.

This was to be his life now, and he did not doubt that Hermione and Merlin would band together from time to time, either to annoy him or to prevent him from doing something they did not agree with, and just as likely, to persuade him to do something he did not agree with. And in all honesty, he did not mind.

Hermione and Merlin were having a whispered conversation and when he approached, they both sprang back from each other, Hermione smiling innocently and Merlin grinning at him stupidly. He knew that no matter how much he pressed or asked, they wouldn't reveal the topic of their conversation.

"Will you be returning for dinner?" Merlin asked.

"No," Hermione shook her head, "But we will be back before dark. If we are needed, we will be by the stream."

Merlin nodded before he handed the reins to Arthur and then stepped back, allowing them room to mount the horse before Hermione shifted the basket in her hold and then they took off at a trot.

The journey to the stream was one they'd done countless times before and both knew the way, as did Llameri and she required little instruction once she recognised their path of travel, allowing for Hermione and Arthur to converse without paying much attention to their surroundings. When they arrived at the stream, they dismounted Llameri and Arthur removed the blanket from the saddlebag, setting it on the ground and allowing the horse to wander her surroundings, watching as she drank from the stream before finding a patch of grass to settle down on, being bathed in the rays of the sun.

"Are you hungry?" Hermione asked. "We can take an early lunch?" She suggested.

Despite knowing he shouldn't be hungry given how little time had passed since he'd had his breakfast, he'd been hungry from the moment he'd smelled the cakes. Nodding in approval, Hermione smiled at him and reached into the basket and pulled free the plates and cutlery before removing the cheese, bread, meats, apples and berries.

He'd eaten quickly not because he was hungry but rather he couldn't wait to get his hands on the cake hidden away in the basket and seeing this, Hermione laughed and finished her own servings before she removed the cake and unwrapped it, cutting a decently-sized slice and setting it on a second, clean plate.

Arthur didn't wait for her to cut her own serving as he had his first taste, sighing in happiness at the sweetness of the flavouring and the softness of the sponge. Hermione was right; it _was_ Heaven on a plate. He'd always been partial to a lemon cake but he'd just discovered his new favourite sweet treat.

"You approve?" Hermione's voice flittered to his ears, her amusement unhidden.

He opened his eyes, not realising he'd closed them and he saw her mouth twitching and her eyes crinkling as she fought back a laugh.

"Very much so, I will ensure this will be served at all of our meals," he vowed. "You're a wonderful baker," he praised.

"Thank you, Arthur," she smiled, "However, I cannot take credit, this is the cake _you_ baked."

He blinked slowly in surprise before his eyes drifted down to the cake slice on his plate. If he'd made that one and it tasted so good, how would Hermione's have tasted, when she'd been making it for years? When she'd perfected it? He wasn't sure his taste buds would be able to manage such a thing.

Lifting his eyes to her, he tipped his head. "What are you doing?" He asked, seeing Hermione spreading a thin layer of jam atop her slice of cake with the back of her spoon.

"Adding jam," she replied, stating the obvious without being rude or mean.

"Does it add to the flavour?" He asked curiously.

"In my opinion, yes, the sourness of the berries helps to balance the sweetness of the honey."

Curious, he accepted the spoon when she held it out in offering and he added a small amount of jam to a section of his cake slice before tasting it, his eyes widening slightly. He wasn't entirely sure which he preferred, it with or without jam. Both were exceptionally good. And because of that, he smothered half of his remaining cake slice in jam and left the other half jam-free. Once he'd eaten his slice, he eyed the remaining cake hungrily and after laughing, Hermione cut him a second slice, Arthur repeating the process of smothering half of it in jam and leaving the other half jam-free.

He'd have happily eaten a third slice but decided to wait a little while, wanting to let his stomach settle given the food he'd already eaten that day. Once done, Hermione packed most of the items away but left free the apples so they might feed them to Llameri for a treat, and they both lay on their backs, staring up at the sky, being bathed by the sun's warming rays, gesturing to clouds and calling out what they saw.

"That is in no way a horse," Hermione protested.

"Yes, it is, look, there's the head, legs, ears and tail," argued Arthur, wiggling his finger to each part.

"Look at Llameri and then look at the cloud," she said, "They look nothing alike."

"They do."

"They do not," she scoffed. "Now, that one," she lifted her hand, pointing to a cloud far off to the left that was slowly drifting towards them, "Looks like a horse."

"No, it doesn't," he protested.

"It does," she argued, "More so than your _thing_."

"Thing! How dare you?!" He mock exclaimed. "That _thing_ is bred from the best stallion in Camelot."

"If the stallion looked remotely similar to that _thing_ , I would not wish to breed it."

"It is with a heavy heart that I must place you under arrest," said Arthur seriously.

"Oh, and what of my crimes?" She asked, turning her head to look at him, fighting a laugh.

"Treachery," he stated.

"Treachery?" She arched an amused eyebrow.

"Treachery," he echoed, "We in Camelot, pride ourselves on our horse breeding and comments such as yours are offensive to not only the citizens but the throne, too."

"Well, if you wish to arrest and detain me, _Prince_ Arthur, you must catch me first."

He blinked in surprise when she was suddenly on her feet and dashing away from him. It was the fastest he'd ever seen her move. In fact, he hadn't believed her to be capable of such speed, especially giving that she was wearing a dress. A pretty blue one, he might add. Giving his head a shake, he pushed himself up onto into a seating position, his mouth twitching into a smile when rather than darting around his mare that lay sprawled on the ground, Hermione simply took a running leap and jumped over her, Llameri lifting her head, as if confused by what had just happened before she snorted and laid her head back against the ground, uncaring.

Laughing and shaking his head, he stood to his feet, removed his scabbard and set it on the ground, not wishing for his sword to hit against his leg with every step he took. He took a breath before he darted after her, putting on a burst of speed. Whilst she had a head start, his legs were longer and allowed for larger strides, making it easy to close to the distance between them.

When she noticed his presence, she looked over her shoulder, squeaked out a noise of surprise before she fisted the skirts of her dress in her hand and faced forward, a laugh leaving her. Whilst he was able to close the distance between them easily enough, catching her was a different matter. Given her smaller size, she was much agiler than he was, allowing her to take sharp turns without falling and once, she'd even managed to dart right beneath his arms as he made to grab her.

He wasn't entirely sure how long it had taken to catch her but his lungs were burning, his skin flushed and sweat slicked at his forehead. Sirs Davie and Bertrand were right. She _was_ really fast and it was no wonder she was able to escape their guard. He could barely keep up with her and he was almost half the age of his eldest Knights and at his physical peak. He almost felt sorry for being so harsh with them. Almost. She was fast but not uncatchable.

Which he proved when he reached out and ensnared her right forearm, pulling her to a stop until her back collided with his chest. She laughed loudly as she struggled to catch her breath, her hands came up to rest atop of his after they'd slipped to her waist and she leaned into him, tilting her head back.

After a moment or two of them catching their breath, he turned her to face him, seeing her flushed skin, windswept wild hair, bright smile and sparkling eyes staring up at him. She truly was beautiful.

He reached up, brushing her hair back from her face and behind her ear, his mouth twitching in amusement when the breeze blew that same lock of hair back into her face.

"You, Princess, are an exceptionally hard woman to catch."

"Thank you," she grinned proudly and he shook his head.

Brushing her hair back from her face once more, he lowered his head and she tipped hers, rising onto her tiptoes to meet him halfway, their lips pressing together softly. Before he knew it, her arms had wound around his neck, one of her hands had buried in his hair and the other fisted the fabric of his shirt, whilst his arms were firmly locked around her, keeping her against him. Their kiss had grown from soft and teasing to heated and intense, the need for more passing through them and not wanting to do something to dishonour his intended before they were married, he drew back from her, being out of breath once more but for an entirely different reason.

She gave a little gasp as she sucked in a lungful of air and she pressed her forehead against his, catching her breath. Her hands unwound from his hair and shirt but clasped together, her arms remaining slotted around his neck.

Taking a breath he said, "Where is your wolf? I have not seen him today, not even by the kitchens."

Arthur knew the wolf tended to hang about the kitchens until one of the workers either took pity or gave him something just so he'd leave them be. He'd seen it happen before and once, three times in a single day. The workers were quite exasperated that day and the wolf had left with a full stomach of cheese, beef and an apple pie. Arthur wouldn't surprised if the wolf stopped hunting his own food altogether, especially now that he'd discovered an easier way to find food, one that didn't involve chasing, or very little movement at all.

"The last I saw, with my father. He accompanied the children and I down to the city but soon left. When I returned to the castle, I saw him with my father as they headed for a meeting with yours, no doubt wishing to finalise any details of our betrothal before my father returns to Hogwarts in a few days."

"You will miss him, won't you?" He said softly.

"Yes, I will miss him greatly," she admitted, drawing her head back and opening her eyes, getting locked in his bright blue gaze. "He has sworn to visit as well as made me promise to visit Hogwarts with you in tow. And I know he will visit for the wedding or after the birth of my sibling, whichever may happen first, the details are yet to be discussed or finalised."

He nodded before drawing back from her and leading her back to the blanket, once more taking seats.

"You said you wished to show me something," Arthur reminded.

"Yes," she nodded, suddenly appearing nervous as she fiddled with the fabric of her dress. "You said you wish to experience magic, magic that is not intended for dark purposes, magic that you can believe in?"

"I did," he agreed.

"If it is alright with you, perhaps I might show you some now? It is always hard to control my instincts and urges, and now that you know the truth, I am finding it harder to stop myself from casting magic in your presence. But despite you now knowing, I don't wish to make you uncomfortable by doing so freely, so I thought it best I ask for your permission."

"Hermione," he sighed, lifting his hand until it pressed against her cheek and she tipped her head into his touch. "This is a part of you and I don't ever want you to hide from me, and you no longer have to. If you feel the need to cast magic before me, then please do. It is something I will grow accustomed to and hopefully, I will one day have faith in others to use their magic as you do and therefore feel confident enough to abolish the laws prohibiting the use of magic."

Her mouth pulled into a small smile. "So you don't mind if I were to show something right now?" She clarified.

"No, I would be honoured to see your magic at work, I only wish our surroundings were more private," he said, his eyes darting about them worriedly.

He was certain he was the only person (besides Hermione, of course) who knew of their current location. Whilst the stream did travel through the castle grounds, it also travelled for several miles through Camelot, so although others were aware of its existence, that particular spot he believed only himself to have found, especially since he'd been visiting for so many years and he'd yet to see another person nearby or see signs of someone having visited. But despite knowing that, they were still, technically, out in the open and free to be observed.

"As do I," Hermione agreed, "But there is something I can do that will lessen the risk of me being seen," she replied and with a simple wave of her hand and a whisper of something he didn't understand, Hermione seemed to relax.

"What did you do?" He asked curiously, not feeling or seeing anything that he hadn't before, but having witnessed her actions.

"I have placed a spell around the area that will prevent anyone from being able to see us. If someone were to stumble upon us, we wouldn't be seen. However, if someone were to be looking for us specifically, they would. It is based on intent, as is most things regarding magic."

"That's incredible," he muttered in surprised and she smiled at him, somewhat shyly.

"Is there anything, in particular, you would like to see?"

"I'm not entirely sure," he confessed, "I do not know what you are and aren't capable of."

"Well, those that practice my magic, for clarification's sake, let's call it the magic of the trueborns, witches and witches," she reminded, "We are unable to bring those that have died back to life or any act that defies nature or the natural order of the world. We are also unable to conjure food from out of thin air..."

"I've seen you do it before with the apples," he interrupted with a frown.

"No, I summoned the apples that I already had on my person, hidden in my bag," she corrected. "Anyway, there are many limitations but there are also many capabilities, some of which, I still find to amaze me no matter how long may pass."

"What is your favourite?" He asked curiously.

She smiled at him before she lifted her hand, snapping her fingers and twisting her wrist until her palm faced upwards, all in one easy and fluid movement. Arthur's eyes widened when he saw the yellow-orange and blue-tipped flames sat in her hand, dancing in the soft breeze surrounding them. He lifted his gaze to Hermione, seeing that she was obviously unharmed.

"This is one of my favourites as has been since I was a child," she started, "It is quite simple and requires little magical power. Although it is true fire that provides warmth and light, it does not cause harm when it comes into contact with human skin, they are waterproof and are portable if placed inside a glass jar. They will only extinguish when I reverse the magic."

"They will burn forever?" He questioned in surprise, his eyes once more firmly locked on the flames, almost seeming to be entranced by their movement.

"I imagine so," she nodded, not that he saw. "I've never had the need to test their limitations."

"Can I touch it?"

"Yes, it won't harm you," she promised, reaching for his hand with her other one before she lifted it and then deposited the flames into his palm.

He released a breathy laugh at the feel of the warmth against his skin but rather than it burning, it tickled and tingled, sending a shiver down his spine.

"That's incredible," he muttered, lifting his hand closer to his face, feeling the warmth bathing his skin.

With a snap of her fingers, the flames vanished from existence and he blinked slowly before giving his head a shake, lowering his hand and lifting his eyes to her.

"I imagine that be useful," he commented.

"It can be," she agreed. "Next, this is something I've learned recently, something my father taught me but you may have to bear with me, it requires great focus and magical control."

Tipping his head curiously, he observed as she turned her focus away from him and to the stream opposite them, Arthur's eyes darting between them, seeing the way she sat taller and she squared her shoulders, narrowing her eyes and taking slow, steady breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth. She raised her arm and held her hand out, it closing into a fist before reopening, and he felt his eyes widen when there was a visible ripple in the water of the stream before a blob of water seemed to lift from the stream, hovering above it in an uneven circle.

His eyes darted to her, seeing her brow furrowed in concentration and her teeth sunk into her bottom lip. From the corner of his eyes, caught the movement of her slowly twisting her wrist to the right and then to the left, the movement repeating as she spread her fingers and curled them slightly. His eyes moving back to the stream, a laugh of surprise left him when he realised what she was doing, she was controlling the movement of the hovering blob of water, watching as it formed from an uneven circle into that of a horse, then a wolf and then a dragon.

His laughter grew louder when that water-dragon moved over to him, visibly flapping its wings as though it could fly and it was flying, and he tipped his head back, watching as it flew overhead and circled above. When it paused directly above him he felt himself flinch when it lost its shape and it exploded into thousands of water droplets, preparing himself to be soaked as it fell over him, but it didn't happen. Hesitantly opening his eyes, his mouth parted at the sight of being surrounded by those same water droplets, only they had all frozen mid-air. He gingerly reached out, tapping his finger against the one before his nose, the water droplet seeming to bounce away from him before returning to its original position. A smile pulled at his mouth and when he blinked, he felt a little disappointed that the water droplets had once more gathered into a misshapen blob above his head before it floated back to the stream and then burst, it raining into the body of water and creating ripples on the surface.

He moved his eyes back to Hermione, seeing that she looked a little tired but otherwise fine.

"How?" Was all he managed to articulate.

Hermione laughed and pushed her hair back from her face. "It was not easy, admittedly, it took me longer to perfect it than I'd have liked, but my father was patient and encouraging and didn't allow me to admit defeat. He believed I could do it, I just had to believe in myself. "

"But you said you couldn't control nature," he reminded.

"That's correct," she nodded. "Whilst I was able to control the water, I am unable to force weather conditions, such as rains or storms but I can conjure water. From my understanding, the magic works by taking the moisture from things around me, such as from the ground or the raindrops on leaves and plants."

"If there was ever a drought...?" Arthur questioned thoughtfully.

"I should be able to provide water," she nodded, "But I'm unaware of how much I will be able to conjure and for how long."

"Did William know about your magic?" Arthur asked, surprising her with the sudden change of topic.

"Yes, he did," she answered. "It is how I learned of his magic," she lied. "He once caught me using magic and wishing to calm me, he told me of his magic. And Arthur, I feel I should tell you..."

"Yes?" He prompted when she hesitated.

"Please don't be mad at him," she pleaded.

"Who?" He tipped his head questioningly.

She took a breath and twisted her fingers in her skirts. "Merlin."

"What has the idiot done now?" He sighed, brushing a hand through his hair and pinching the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache forming.

"Nothing, nothing that I'm aware of, at least. You see, Merlin... Well," she cleared her throat nervously, "He knows about me."

"About you?"

"He knows I have magic," she confessed.

She wasn't entirely sure what she'd been expecting but it wasn't the furrowing of his brow or the pursing of his lips.

"How long has he known?" He asked, his voice annoyingly calm.

"Since Ealdor," she admitted.

"I see."

Hermione's stomach twisted painfully with nerves. "Please don't be mad at him, Arthur," she pleaded, "He witnessed me using my magic, and Merlin confessed that before he died, William asked him to watch over me. When I came to Camelot and he saw how close we were growing, he pleaded with me to tell you the truth about me, he swore you would not care and that you weren't your father. But I was too afraid to tell you the truth."

Arthur released a slow breath. He wasn't certain how he should feel. Understanding and appreciative that he'd kept Hermione's secret and complied with her wishes, or angry and annoyed that Merlin hadn't told him, knowing the laws surrounding magic.

"I am only telling you this as I thought you should know, I didn't want for there to be secrets between you."

"The secret and private conversations?" Arthur pressed.

"Some were about my magic and Merlin trying to persuade me to tell you, others were not."

"Whilst I am not happy that he kept such a secret from me, I can understand the reasoning behind it, I can understand that he was acting within your wishes," he said and Hermione released a sigh of relief.

"Thank you, he truly does not deserve your ire. If there is one person you should be angry with, it is me."

"No matter what you may do, I do not have it in me to be angry at you," he vowed.

Her mouth pulled into a smile. "Give it time, My Prince, I assure you, I can be _very_ trying."

He laughed. "Believe me, I am aware, I have never felt such stress during the time of your guards being away from their duties."

Hermione smiled proudly and lifted her chin and Arthur shook his head at her.

"There is something I wish to try," she said.

"And that is?" He arched an eyebrow.

"There is something that I was able to do but since the ending of the war, I've been too afraid to cast such magics."

"Why?" His brow furrowed in concern.

"It requires the use of a powerful happy memory and self-belief and given the trials I faced during the time of the war, I found that I no longer felt safe or happy. All I remember is fear, pain and death. I was afraid that all of my memories had been tainted, that my soul was tainted. You see, Arthur, when magic is used to take a life, it places a small crack in our souls and we will never be the same again. I was afraid that I would no longer be worthy of casting such magic."

"And now?" He questioned softly.

"And now, since meeting you and coming to Camelot, I have honestly never felt safer and I can't remember a time I was this happy."

He smiled at her and his hand came up to her cheek before he leaned forward, pressed a chaste kiss to her mouth and then leaned his forehead against hers, hearing her little sigh of content.

"I can truthfully say that right now, in this moment, I have never been happier," he muttered. "And I swear, you will always be safe in Camelot and with me. I won't allow anyone to harm you, including my father."

"I believe you," she replied softly. She truly did.

"And this magic you wish to cast, what is it?"

"It's best I show you," she drew back from him and stood to her feet, taking a few steps away from him as he stared up at her from his place sat on the blanket.

Her eyes briefly locked with his before they fluttered closed and whilst she straightened her posture, her body seemed to relax and she raised her arm, angling it towards the sky.

He didn't hear what she whispered but he saw a burst of blue-silver mist come from her hand and although he had no idea what he'd expected or what should have happened, he knew from the moment Hermione opened her eyes, that it hadn't worked. Her posture slumped in defeat, her arm lowered and her hopeful expression crumpled into disappointment. She looked so small and broken as she folded her arms around her stomach and bowed her head. He hated it.

He was quick to stand to his feet and approach her, gently uncurling her arms from around her before he tugged her forward and into him, her arms slotting around him as she buried her face against his chest, sniffling, and he folded his arms around her, holding her to him gently as his chin rested atop her head.

"It didn't work," she sniffled.

His heart broke for her. Whatever she'd been trying to do, it had meant a lot to her and although he didn't understand why, he knew he had to do everything he could to help her.

"I know, perhaps you should try once more," he encouraged softly.

"I can't do it, Arthur. I can't face the disappointment again."

"Whilst there is a possibility of you being disappointed, there is an equal opportunity that you won't be."

"I don't have it me," she whispered.

He snorted. "Princess, you are the most intelligent woman I have ever met, and though I would never insult your intelligence, I must give myself leave to do so this one time. If you truly believe that you are incapable of casting this magic, then you are an idiot."

"Arthur!" She protested weakly.

Her mouth twitched in amusement. "The woman I know, the woman I love, would never admit defeat so easily. The woman I am to marry and the woman that is to be my Queen, would never admit defeat without putting up a fight first. If there is one thing I know about you, it is that you are a fighter. I love you and I believe in you. I _know_ you can do this. Please, try again. If not for yourself, then for me."

She was silent for a moment before she sniffled and then she said, "Okay," she acquiesced. "I will try one more for you but if it doesn't work, I can't face it again, I won't face it again."

"That is all I ask, one more attempt before you give up."

He made to draw back to allow her space to do what she needed but she tightened her hold on him, refusing to let go.

"If I'm going to do this, I'm going to need you," she said quietly.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I believe in you."

He heard her sigh and her cheek shifted until it pressed against his chest, over his heart, listening to the rhythm of his steady heartbeat. After a moment, she lifted her head and gazed up at him before she reached up on and tiptoes and her eyes fluttered closed as she pressed her mouth against his in a chaste but lingering kiss. She drew back slightly, her eyes remaining closed and when she whispered her next words, he felt her lips brush his.

" _Expecto Patronum_."

He heard and saw nothing until he noticed a blue-silver light surrounding them, but he couldn't take his eyes away from Hermione's gaze to see what had caused it.

"I'm too afraid to look," she confessed.

"Just as we will do everything in the future, we will do this together," he promised, drawing back from her.

They turned around slowly, Arthur's eyes widening and his mouth parting as a strangled noise of surprise left him, whilst he heard Hermione's breath hitch and her hand came up to her mouth.

As he had before, he wasn't sure what to expect or what should have happened but he most certainly wasn't expecting for there to a blue-silver misty creature stood before him, because that's what it was, a creature. He'd never seen or heard of such a being before. It had the head, body and front legs of a lion, but the wings, hind legs and tail of a dragon, and it was huge, being a little over half the size of him. It flapped its large wings which had a span of what looked to be double his height, and its large tail swished back and forth lazily.

"Gods!" Hermione whispered.

"What is it?" Arthur finally managed to find the words to speak.

Whilst he eyed the creature before him warily, he didn't feel the need to retrieve his sword and protect Hermione. Not only was Hermione responsible for such a creature being conjured, not only did it remain perfectly still, making no move to approach or threaten them, but it also looked to have been made from mist and fog, logically, it would be impossible for it to harm them.

"I don't believe it has a name, I've never heard tale of or seen such a creature," she answered in surprise, unable to take her eyes from it.

"Had you intended for this to happen?" He asked curiously after noting she seemed just as surprised as he was.

"Yes and no," she answered, confusing him.

When he saw her take a step forward, his instinct was to reach out and stop her from approaching the creature but he forced it down, carefully observing as she closed the distance between them and without fear or concern, she set her hand against the creature's head, her fingers carding through the thick mane of fur. Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly (he hadn't decided yet) the creature welcomed the touch, releasing a strange purring sound as it pressed against her hand firmly, stepping closer until it brushed up against her and it's large tail wrapped around her legs.

"He won't harm you, Arthur," she said softly. "He is incapable of harming any living being," she promised.

She then held her free hand out to him expectantly and he hesitantly crossed to her, taking her hand in his and allowing her to bring it towards the creature, it sniffing at his hand before it lowered its head in offering. Hermione released his hand and he slowly brought it to the mane, being surprised when he felt the thick, soft fur between his fingers, not having expected it to feel so real given it being composed of mist.

"You're wondering what it is, aren't you?"

"Yes," he nodded.

"This is a Patronus," she began, "In short, this is my magic and soul in corporal form. Patronuses are used for communication purposes, allowing witches and wizards to send untraceable messages to one another. They are also used for companionship and most importantly, they are the only thing that is able to defend and protect against dark beings known as dementors, which is a being that feeds on the positivity and happiness in a person's life, and they are capable of removing the human soul with a single kiss."

His expression was one of horror, she noted.

"And you have experience with such beings?" He asked knowingly.

"Unfortunately," she nodded, "During the war, our enemies had persuaded the dementors to fight for them. We lost many to them. Not every witch or wizard is able to produce such magics, not only does it require a truly powerful happy memory and self-belief, but magical capability it needed also. It is notoriously difficult to perfect and for this, most shy away from it and don't so much as attempt to perform it. In all honesty, this is one of the most difficult forms of magic to exist and not only that, it's the purest."

"How so?" He tipped his head slightly, no longer paying attention to the hybrid creature that was brushing up against them affectionately as they ran their hands through its mane.

"I'm not entirely sure," she admitted, "But I do know it has the same purity and power of a unicorn or a beam of light from a blue moon caught in a jar. And due to this, this magic can only be performed by those of pure heart. It is impossible for a dark practitioner to perform and if they were to attempt it, as punishment, it is said they are to be eaten alive by maggots, but I've never witnessed it for myself so I can't be certain," she shrugged lightly and he blinked in surprise. "And that, Arthur, is how you know I am good, not dark or evil."

"I never doubted it," he vowed and she smiled at him. "And the creature, it is clear you were surprised?"

"I was not expecting _this_ ," she admitted. "The Patronus represents the witch's or wizard's magic and soul, but it can also represent their character. I was expecting it to be a small otter, an animal known for being playful, optimistic and wise."

"And it has changed," he stated.

"It has, to him," she gestured to the creature between them with a tip of her head. "A Patronus may change during a time of change or serious emotional upset."

"War," he muttered softly.

"War," she agreed. "Not only that but William's death, discovering the truth about my birth and family, meeting my father, discovering that you knew of my magic, confessing my love for you _and_ agreeing to be your wife, all in less than a year."

"You've had quite the year," he mused.

She laughed. "I have," she nodded.

"And the creature? Is it normal?"

"I don't believe so," her brow furrowed. "At least, I've never heard of such a case. Whilst it has been known that some have magical creatures as their Patronus, I don't believe anyone has ever possessed a hybrid quite like mine."

"And the meaning?" He probed.

A smile tugged at her mouth. "Well, the lion is known to represent loyalty, patience, intelligence, reliability and protection. Dragons are said to represent growth, prosperity, wisdom and fertility. But most of all, my family crest bears that of a lion, and yours bears that of a dragon."

He blinked slowly before he lowered his gaze to the creature that pressed its head forcefully into his hand when he'd paused scratching it behind the ears. She was right, he realised. Despite it being an odd combination, as he gazed down at the creature, he realised that there was something oddly beautiful about it and although it shouldn't work, it did.

He realised it was the perfect representation of the joining of their families and Kingdoms, and at that recognition, he felt his mouth pull into a smile. Although before he'd been by no means afraid of the creature, only wary, he felt himself relaxing completely, feeling a gentle tingle over his fingers, a shiver darting down his spine and his chest filling with warmth. It was her, he realised. The creature felt like Hermione, like her magic, he supposed.

"Thank you, Arthur," she sighed softly, clarifying when he tipped his head, puzzled, "If it wasn't for you, for your insistence that I try again, for you love and your belief in me, I fear I would have never seen my Patronus again."

"I will always encourage you and I will always believe in you," he vowed.

"I don't deserve you."

He snorted. "Princess, it is _I_ that does not deserve you." She smiled at him softly. "Perhaps your father might know the name of this creature? Given all of the tales of creatures and beings, I imagine it must have one or that it is thought to exist," he mused. "Is your father capable of performing this magic?"

"Yes," she nodded with a smile.

Hermione had never been happier when she'd discovered the news, after hesitantly broaching the subject, not wanting to speak of potentially future magics if they hadn't yet been invented. And it was much to her relief that Godric had informed her the Patronus had been first introduced to the world of magic before even he had been born, which meant they'd be able to remain in contact without requiring the need for letters or riders to deliver them, and it would be a lot quicker, too. And it was no surprise that she'd discovered his Patronus to be that of a lion, one that was only a little bigger than hers. Of course, that day he'd attempted to persuade to try and conjure a Patronus for the first time in years but she'd been too afraid to do so, this day being the first she had done so.

"My father's is a lion."

"Hmmm," he hummed thoughtfully, "And would it be safe to assume that other King and Queens of Hogwarts are capable of the same and that their forms manifest in the animals they bear on their crests?"

Hermione beamed at him. "You've a brilliant mind, My Prince," she praised.

Arthur preened under her praise and she giggled and shook her head.

"When was Hogwarts founded?" He asked. "I remember you saying it was founded by four incredibly powerful and influential people, which I now understand you meant magically powerful. I know it was done so as a haven to protect those with magic, but I can't help notice your father shares the same name as one of the founders, and if that were the case, that would mean the other founders are likely to be similar in age, which would mean it is a newly founded Kingdom."

Hermione had hoped the lies would be over now that he knew the truth, apparently not.

"I'm not entirely sure, as you know, I wasn't raised in a castle as a royal, which meant I was never forced to learn the history of my Kingdom, but I do know there's a tradition of naming children after their ancestors. So whilst they do share names, the current royals sitting on the thrones are not the original founders," she lied, "But they are equally as powerful, as is their line of magic and it will continue to be so until it dies out, if it should die out."

"Your father told me you are growing more powerful by the day," commented Arthur.

"He's said the same to me," she nodded. "I believe it is because of the arrival of my father. My family magic has now been unlocked which allows my magic to grow stronger, and that means my magical capability will increase and I'll be able to perform feats of magic I once couldn't, but not only that, the magic I am capable of now should grow to be easier and require less focus or magical power. I don't believe I will ever truly be as powerful as my father, but I know I will be more powerful than the average witch. Those with strong magical families such as mine are generally more powerful than others," she explained. "But of course, that in no way means I am superior to anyone. Some may be more successful in areas in which I struggle, everyone is different."

She hadn't realised how much time had passed and when she heard Arthur's stumble rumbled in hunger, he gave her a sheepish expression and she laughed, shaking her head. Perhaps it was time for dinner, she thought.

Stepping back from her newly changed Patronus, something she knew was going to take a little time to get used to, it disappeared from sight. Arthur blinked and then gave his head a shake before he looked to her in concern, seeing her saddened expression.

"I miss him already," she explained before he'd had the chance to ask after her.

His expression softened. "You've proven to me and yourself you are capable and worthy of performing the magic, and next time I have no doubt you will do so first try."

She turned her eyes to him. "It was you. The thought of you is what allowed me to conjure him."

"And if I were capable of magic, I am certain it would be thoughts of you that would allow me to do the same," he promised, settling his hand on the small of her back and guiding her back over to the blanket, them both taking a seat. "So, when will I be challenged for the chance to win a prize?" He asked.

Hermione visibly perked up as she straightened her posture and smiled at him, just as his stomach gave another rumble of hunger.

"Ah, perfect timing," she grinned. She reached for the basket that had been placed off to the side and from within, she removed a handful of vegetables. Arthur blinked slowly. "For dinner this evening, Arthur, you will be preparing a broth so that we might use the last of the meat and bread."

"Me?" His eyebrow arched.

"Yes, _you_ ," she confirmed with a firm nod. "Not to worry, I won't be throwing you into the deep end. I have written down my mother's recipe, however, unlike the cake, this time I won't be helping you, but I assure you, it's simple. All you must do is peel the vegetables and put them to boil."

"And how am I supposed to do that?" He asked, deliberately darting a glance around them at their lack of equipment.

Hermione simply smiled before she waved her hand, a makeshift firepit forming off to the left and away from the blanket, a wriggle of her fingers had a fire bursting to life and then she removed a pot, a bit of parchment and a knife from the basket, Arthur realising she must have used magic to ensure she could fit so many items inside. After unceremoniously depositing the items in his arms, she filled the pot with water with a little magic before she smiled.

"That should be all, the meat is in the basket, and I shall now leave you to it."

Not allowing him the chance to speak, she stood, fished out a handful of apples from the basket and then crossed over to Llameri's still sunbathing form, Hermione taking a seat on the grass beside her and the mare happily taking the offerings from her hands.

~000~000~000~

"The verdict?" Arthur questioned, trying to hide his nerves as he watched Hermione try her first taste of the broth he'd made.

Whilst it appeared to be easy on parchment, Arthur had almost burnt himself on the pot, scolded himself on the water, the onions had stung his eyes and made tears leak, he'd been worried he'd not correctly peeled the vegetables, that he'd over boiled them, that he'd cut the remainder of the chicken into too large pieces and the vegetable too small, not to mention he'd almost lost a finger in the process when the knife slipped as he attempted to chop the carrots. It had been the most stressful experience of his life and he never wanted to experience it again.

"Consider me impressed," she smiled.

"Really?" He asked surprised, looking down at his own bowl of broth, it looking very unappetising, very similar to Merlin's cooking.

"Yes," she nodded, "I know you have no experience cooking and this is the first time you were left to do so without help, and you've done remarkably well."

He breathed a sigh of relief before he tried the broth for himself, immediately noticing that whilst it was full of flavour, the vegetables were still a little too hard. He'd uncooked them, not overcooked them as he'd been previously worried.

He forced down his meal, being much happier when Hermione produced the remainder of the cake from earlier and they polished it off between them, him more so than her, something she'd teased him over.

"My prize?" Arthur asked after everything had been cleaned and packed away with the aid of magic.

"Of course," she said brightly.

Arthur blinked in surprise when she reached behind her and brought forward what looked to be a crown made of wildflowers before she reached up and set it atop his head, Arthur going cross-eyed when he tried to lift his gaze higher to see it. Hermione burst into laughter at his expression, falling onto her back with her hands resting against her stomach. Arthur was torn between amusement and disappointment.

"What's wrong, don't you like it?" Hermione teased after she'd calmed from her laughter. "I spent half an hour making that."

"It is lovely, a little girl's dream crown," he replied and she giggled. "But this is not what I had in mind when you mentioned a prize this morning."

"Oh, very well, I suppose I could rethink my options," she sighed, as if it were an inconvenience to her and he chuckled. "Okay, how about this," she shifted until she was laying on her stomach, her forearms propping her up as she looked to him. "For one day only, I will subtly use my magic to annoy Merlin."

His smile grew larger and his eyes gleamed mischievously.

"How so?"

"Of course, I have to be careful not to be seen, so it will have to be in ways no one will suspect. You say Merlin is clumsy, then it will be no surprise should he suddenly trip in the corridors, fall down the last few steps on a staircase or perhaps even spill food over himself."

"You, Princess, are diabolical, and I love it," he grinned. That was the best prize he'd ever won, it being well worth the stress he'd endured.

"This is me on a good day, you do not want to be on my bad side. I am known for being vindictive when someone I care for is wronged."

"An example would be?" He probed.

She tipped her head, her brow furrowing as she nibbled at her lip, considering if she should tell him, likely being worried it might upset or disappoint him if it involved magic.

"Well, once, when I was sixteen, my friends and I were betrayed by someone we believed to be an ally. As such, I cursed her forehead until 'sneak' was spelt out in acne, not only showing her to be a traitor to our other allies, but to warn others that they should think twice before trusting her."

He stared at her silently before shaking his head. He wasn't sure what he was expecting but it wasn't that, especially with magic being involved. And although it wasn't a painful or horrifying punishment, he knew how vain some women could be, especially if they were of nobility and royalty, in which case, it was likely the worst punishment Hermione could have given.

"Creative and embarrassing but not painful," he mused.

"Exactly," Hermione nodded. "I made it so it couldn't be covered and she had to grow her hair so it couldn't be seen. I had every intention of reversing it once she apologised, but she never did," she shrugged. "Anyway, I have something for you."

"Another prize?" His eyebrow arched questioningly.

"No," she laughed. "It's something I've been working on for a few months but I was able to put the finishing touches on it this morning and it's now complete."

She pushed herself onto her knees before she reached into the basket once more and then shifted until she sat with her legs folded beneath her. Holding out her hand, he lifted his own and then she deposited something into his palm.

Lowering his gaze, he saw a silver cuff bracelet sitting in his palm and although it looked simple and unassuming, he had the feeling it was anything but. Holding it between his fingers, he brought it to his eye level, seeing in the centre the unmistakable Pendragon crest stamped into the silver and beside that, was the Gryffindor crest, too.

His eyes darted to her questioningly.

"Think of it as a wedding gift," she smiled and shrugged. "It may appear to be simple, but it's not," she promised, confirming what he'd already suspected. "Firstly, my magic is embedded into the metal and I've layered a series of spell work with it. The purpose is to ensure that you are never again targeted with a Love Spell, and if you are, it will be ineffective. I never again want you to feel unfocused or not in control of actions." He blinked in surprise. "Secondly, I've fitted it with magics that will allow for you to contact me in emergencies. Should you ever find yourself in a dangerous situation in which you might need my help or magic, all you have to do is say my name three times in a row, and I will be with you as soon as possible. And to make you aware that I am on my way, the metal will heat up against your skin."

"But how will you find me? And how will you get to me so quickly?" He asked, puzzled.

She smiled. "With my magic being imbued with the silver, I will be able to lock onto the signature and it will lead me to you. As for how I will get to you, trust me, I have my ways. Something I'll tell you about later as I don't wish to overwhelm you too much, given how much magic you've witnessed today. Thirdly, I've fitted it with a serious of protection wards which will deflect the most common hexes and curses performed by the trueborns. And lastly, only you can remove it. Should anyone ever attempt to rob you, they won't be able to take it from you."

"That's incredible," he praised in wonder, his mouth twitching when he saw her cheeks flush pink.

"Thank you, I'd always intended to give this to you for protection against magic, just without explaining its purpose, but now that you know, I no longer have to hide that from you. But it is probably best we keep the magic aspect quiet, I can only imagine the response we'll receive from your father."

"Thank you, and if it will offer me protection, I promise to never remove it," he vowed, slipping the silver band around his left wrist, laughing when it resized until it fit perfectly, much like he'd seen the betrothal necklace do the same around Hermione's neck the day before. "I truly appreciate the time and effort you've put into this."

She smiled at him, it widening after he'd leaned forward to press a kiss to her mouth.

"You're welcome," she tipped her head slightly. "And as much as I hate to say this, we have been gone from the castle for hours and I know that should we not return soon, someone will come looking for us and I do not want to be forcibly bound to the castle by your father again, it was maddening."

He snorted. Whilst for him it hadn't made much of a difference to his routine as he had the training field and meetings to attend, all of Hermione's responsibilities had lain outside of the castle grounds and she'd had nothing to keep her occupied.

"Agreed," he nodded.

Rising to his feet, he helped Hermione to stand and with everything already packed away, he turned his attention to convincing his mare to wake from her nap in the sun, something she didn't wish to do and Hermione stood off to the side, laughing and teasing him. When Llameri begrudgingly listened, only after Hermione bribed her with apples, Arthur helped her to mount the saddle, he quickly returned the blanket to the saddlebag and then handed her the basket before climbing up after her.

As they slowly made their return to the castle in the evening sun with Hermione leaning back into his chest sleepily and Arthur smiling down at her fondly, a part of him couldn't help but think that something was coming. Something that he didn't understand and something that was going to change everything.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 28

"Hermione?" Arthur greeted as he approached his intended, the Princess halting in her steps in the middle of the entrance courtyard and she turned to face him, a smile pulling at her mouth.

"Arthur," she replied brightly. "And how has your morning been?"

"Relatively dull," he responded, "Yours?"

"Busy," she tipped her head. "Is there something you needed?"

"Have you seen your father?" He questioned, watching her expression carefully and not missing the way her smile faltered for but a moment and her eyes flashed.

"No, I have not seen him since breakfast, he mentioned wishing to visit the marketplace."

Arthur didn't believe her.

"Are you certain? Sir Leon is adamant that he saw you walking the garden with him and Akela some time ago."

"Well, perhaps Sir Leon drank a little too much at the farewell feast last night and is now suffering the after-effects," she offered innocently.

Arthur felt his mouth twitch in amusement. She was lying to him.

"Hermione, his riding party is due to leave in but an hour," Arthur said gravely. "If your father wishes to return to Hogwarts before the birth of his child and your sibling, he must leave as scheduled."

"I understand," she nodded, "But I honestly do not know where he is."

Arthur's eyebrow arched in challenge, his eyes darting to her hands which were folded behind her back.

"What are you hiding?"

"Hiding?" She smiled angelically. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"What are you hiding _behind_ your back?" He clarified.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing," she denied.

Snorting, Arthur took Hermione by surprise when he darted around her quicker than she had a chance to step away or turn, and he stole the glass jar she'd hidden from him. One hand holding her at bay so she couldn't reach out and take the glass jar from him no matter how much she struggled and fought, the other brought the jar closer to his eye line, spying the beetle held prisoner as it flittered inside the jar, rebounding off the glass confinements once or twice.

Wondering why Hermione would have a beetle held inside a jar and why she'd deliberately tried to hide it from him, Arthur had the feeling this was no ordinary beetle. Squinting his eyes and taking a closer look, he curiously noted that this beetle did not look like the ones he'd seen inhabiting Camelot. This one had a copper tint to it as well as odd red and gold markings. It even appeared to have a... _Beard_.

Suspicion growing, he glanced to Hermione. "Hermione? This..." He hesitated, not actually believing the question he was about to ask, not even being sure if it was possible or if he was just being stupid. "This isn't your _father_ , is it?"

"Of course not," she shook her head dismissively, still attempting to take it from his grasp but he simply held it above her head and she scowled in annoyance, not being able to reach.

Her voice had risen in pitch, he saw her teeth sink into her lip and her eyes flutter sheepishly.

Arthur felt his eyes widen in surprise.

"Hermione!" He whisper-hissed, darting a quick glance about the entrance courtyard to see that no one was looking. "It is, isn't it?"

His hand moved to clasp around hers before he tugged her after him, into the castle, down the corridor and into an empty guest chamber, being sure to close the door behind him.

"Okay, yes, it is," she admitted, giving him a guilty smile.

Arthur sighed and brought a hand up to his temple, feeling a headache forming.

"What were you thinking? You turned him into a beetle? I didn't even know that was possible."

"Very possible," she nodded. "But it's quite difficult, human to animal transfiguration. And I'm sorry, but he deserved it."

"Why?" He pressed.

"He said something to me I didn't appreciate," she shrugged, folding her arms over her chest and squaring her shoulders. At his arched eyebrow, she continued, "He made a comment, he compared me to someone, to King Salazar."

"And that is bad?" He tipped his head in confusion.

"Most certainly," she agreed. "King Salazar is known for being manipulative, calculating and sneaky. My father deserved it," she assured him.

Arthur's brow creased and his gaze darted from her, to the beetle buzzing about inside the jar and back again before a snort fell from his lips. Giving his head a shake, Arthur made a mental note to never find himself on the wrong side of Hermione.

"And the other reason for this?" He gave the jar in his grasp a gentle shake as to not harm the beetle inside. King Godric, her father, he reminded himself.

"Excuse me?" She blinked innocently.

"I know you," he reminded her, "Better than anyone. You didn't solely do this because he was teasing you. As I said before, your father is due to leave for Hogwarts in but an hour. Is this an attempt to delay his departure? If he cannot be found, then he cannot leave."

Hermione's folded arms dropped down by her sides, her expression saddened and her head lowered. Seeing this, Arthur felt sadness at seeing her saddened and he set the glass jar aside on the nearby desk before drawing her into him, his arms folding around her. Her own arms came up to slot around his back, her face burying in his chest.

"You don't want him to leave," he stated softly, knowingly.

"I know he must return to Hogwarts," she began with a sniffle and Arthur tightened his hold on her, his chest resting atop her head, "I know he has responsibilities and I know his wife is with child and he must return before she gives birth, but I'm not ready for him to go."

"He's your father," he nodded in understanding.

"He's my father," she agreed with another sniffle. "I've just found him, I'm not ready to lose him."

"You're not going to lose him," Arthur promised. "He loves you, and he has made many a threat over the last days that should I allow anything to happen to you, I am to face a fate worse than death."

"I am capable of protecting myself," she protested weakly.

"But that does not mean I am not going to do everything in my power to ensure your safety. Your father might be returning to Hogwarts, but that does not mean he will no longer be your father, and should you need him, I'm certain nothing will stop him from coming to you."

"I'm being selfish."

"You're not," he disagreed. "You've had no more than a week with him, it's only natural that you wish for more time, and despite him leaving that doesn't mean it won't happen or that you won't see him again."

"I haven't had enough time with him. He hasn't told me everything about my birth mother, and he hasn't finished mentoring me. Now that he's unlocked my magic potential, it'll grow and I don't yet know how to control such power. He's the only one that can teach me, and whilst I've learnt more from him in a week than I have in my life regarding magic, there's still so much I don't know."

"I will help you," he promised. "Whilst I am not capable of magic and whilst I have not witnessed it on many occasions, the most being in the last few days with you, I will aid you in any way I can. Together, we'll get through this. We have little time before his departure so perhaps you may reverse the magic so we might inform his guards that he's been found."

"I don't want to," she all but pouted.

"I know," he chuckled, "But you have to."

Sighing, Hermione drew back from him reluctantly and wiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands before nodding in concession. Offering a smile, Arthur reached for the glass jar and removed the cloth covering, the little beetle immediately breaking free of its confinement. Taking a breath, Hermione's eyes fluttered closed and her brow furrowed in focused concentration, and Arthur found himself startling when the beetle, with a flash of white light, now stood before him as King Godric.

Arthur had witnessed more magic from Hermione in the last few days than he had in his life, and despite what he'd seen, it hadn't prepared him for witnessing a beetle transforming into a human.

King Godric's eyes were bright and a booming laugh fell from his lips as he gave Hermione a proud smile.

"Well done, little cub," he praised.

Arthur blinked slowly. _He wasn't angry?_ He thought curiously.

"You are not upset, Your Grace?" Arthur inquired, his gaze darting between the King and his sheepish daughter.

"Angry? Of course not," he shook his head, smiling at his daughter. "Human to animal transfiguration, and animal to human transfiguration, is an incredibly advanced feat of magic, and my darling daughter was able to cast it perfectly. I am not angry but incredibly proud."

Arthur's eyebrows shot up in disbelief.

"And you are not going to punish her?"

"Whatever for?" King Godric questioned, his brow furrowing and head tipping in confusion. "She has done nothing wrong. I admit, I may have deserved it for my teasing, and I cannot be mad for my daughter wishing to delay my departure, and her method for doing so was not only advanced but quite clever. In that form, I am unable to perform my own magic and therefore, am at her mercy."

The Gryffindors were an odd family, Arthur thought. If the roles were reversed, his father wouldn't hesitate to punish him.

~000~000~000~

"I'm going to miss you," Hermione whispered, her face buried in Godric's chest and her arms folded around him as he held her to him gently.

"Just as I will miss you," he replied. "But we shall see each other soon, if not for your wedding then when your sibling is born, whichever may happen first. I know there is much I have yet to teach you, and I will continue your tutoring through owl correspondence as to not risk your safety or the discovery of your magic," he lowered his voice so no one would overhear and Hermione nodded her head in agreement.

He'd already gifted her a beautiful tawny owl by the name of Loretta, so they might stay in contact and not only that, but so Harrow could exchange letters with his brothers whilst he was away at Hogwarts.

It had taken several days to convince Charles to allow his younger brother to attend, and for reasons Hermione understood, he was apprehensive about allowing his brother to leave Camelot for a magical kingdom where his brother might be taught magic without his presence. He'd been furious at first that Hermione and Godric had suggested it and he'd put up a fight, but days later, he'd calmed enough to allow them to have a conversation with him. Harrow had been a ball of excitement for days and that along with Hermione's assurances that his brother would be safe, had convinced him to give his permission.

"I will write to you when your sibling is born."

"It's a boy," she said confidently.

"And you know that how?" Godric questioned amusedly.

"I just know it's a boy," she shrugged one shoulder.

"And do you have any suggestions for a name? I confess Anna and I are struggling."

"Richard."

"Richard?" He echoed thoughtfully.

"Richard Granger, the man that raised me," she explained quietly.

"And he did a wonderful job," he agreed. "Should it be a boy, we shall name him Richard."

"It will be," she corrected.

He laughed. "And should you be wrong and it is a girl? Perhaps you have a name?"

"Jean," she offered, "The woman that raised me."

"Perfect," he nodded, drawing back from her, noting that Hermione was slow in releasing her hold and he smiled down at her. "You will be just fine, little cub. Should you need me, you know all you must do is send word."

She nodded slowly and she swallowed the lump her throat, fighting back the stinging tears in her eyes as she watched Godric approach King Uther. They shared a few words before he moved to shake Arthur's hand, his dark eyes locking with his bright blue.

"I am entrusting you with both her happiness and safety," said Godric, his tone gravely serious. "Hermione is not only my daughter but my pride and joy."

Arthur held his gaze unflinchingly. "Hermione will always be safe in Camelot, and I will always ensure she is well protected and cared for, but not only that, that she is happy and loved."

There was a tense moment of silence before Godric nodded and then clapped Arthur on the shoulder with a large hand before he stepped back, looked to Hermione with a sad smile and then headed for the gathered riding party.

"Father!" Hermione called, lifting the skirts of her dress in her hands and running after him across the entrance courtyard, uncaring for the witnesses to her behaviour. He turned to face her and Hermione ploughed into him, hugging him tightly. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for coming for me. I love you."

She hadn't anticipated it happening. She'd known him a little over a week and despite that, they'd been all but inseparable for the majority of that and despite her words previously about him not being her father, she had grown to consider him as such. He was the only living 'relative' she had.

"I love you too, little cub," he muttered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "No matter where I am or the distance between us, you will always be my daughter. And I pray that it is not too long a wait before our next meeting."

"Please, be careful on your journey back to Hogwarts. Limit your magic use, you know the laws around these parts and you won't truly be safe until you are within the castle wards."

"It is you I am concerned for."

"I'll be fine," she assured him. "I've Arthur and Merlin."

"A man who loves you with all his heart, and a young Sorcerer that is capable of more than he realises. I have done what I can for him in the little time I had..."

"And I will continue to help him whenever and wherever possible," Hermione interrupted. "I have the formal training but he has a greater magical power."

"Camelot is in capable hands," he commented before stepping away from her and moving to mount his hippogriff.

With a final glance over his shoulder, he took his leave with his riding party, Harrow perched on the back of a hippogriff with another man whilst he grinned and waved his goodbyes excitedly.

She'd already said her goodbye to the young boy earlier in the day and she felt a tear leak from the corner of her eye as she waved in return. She felt Charles sidle up beside her and despite knowing of his sadness and uneasiness of his brother leaving for the better part of six years, he refused to show it on his face.

"He will be well looked after," Hermione reminded him. "Hogwarts takes the safety and care of its students seriously and not only that, but my father will be personally watching over him. He won't allow anything to happen to him. Harrow will be safer than you or I."

"I know, and I believe your father will ensure his safety," Charles replied, his tone calm and collected. "Kenelm is upset he is not allowed to attend with him."

Hermione's mouth pulled into a small smile. "I am certain his mood will improve by dinner. And I know that you will miss him greatly, but this is what is best for him. I can only teach him so much. My father is an incredibly powerful man, and once Harrow completes his education, he will be well trained in all forms of magic."

"I best return to the medical hut," was Charles' reply before he took his leave without a second glance in her direction.

Hermione knew he was a little upset with her but she also knew he'd get over it in a couple of days, once he'd had time to process his brother leaving.

Arthur came to stand beside her, his hand settling on the small of her back as he peered down at her, a look of concern directed towards her.

"I miss him," she admitted. "He's been gone not five minutes and I miss him."

"He's your father," he responded simply and Hermione turned into him, Arthur's arms coming up to hold her to him and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Why is Harrow accompanying the riding party?"

"Don't be angry with me," she muttered.

"I've told you before, I can never be angry at you."

"Harrow has magic," she said quietly, not wishing to be overheard despite the entrance courtyard being all but empty now that the riding party had left.

"Magic?" Arthur questioned slowly. "How long have you known?"

Peering up at him, she noted his furrowed brow and his mouth tugging down at the corners.

Burying her face against his chest, she answered with, "Since the first day Thorley Harte was arrested."

"That was _months_ ago."

"It was," she nodded slightly. "I accidentally witnessed him using magic to keep his brothers warm with magical fire. He was terrified and Charles might have harmed me to protect him had I not revealed my own magic to him. He was born with his magic, just like me. He doesn't practice the magic of the Old Religion. I've been teaching him to control his magic, but he will be safer with my father in Hogwarts, and he will receive a proper and complete education."

"And do his brothers possess magic?"

"No," she shook her head. "It's just Harrow, neither of his parents possessed magic; he is what we call a Muggleborn. But now that he possesses magic, his future children will also. He is still young enough to be taught how to correctly use his magic, and for good morals and ideals to be instilled in him."

Arthur was silent for a moment before he said, "It is best he leaves with your father, in your kingdom he will be protected and should my father have discovered the news, he would have sentenced him to death regardless of the fact he is but a child."

"Charles didn't wish for him to leave at first, he is upset with me."

"But he will soon realise you were only protecting Harrow the best you possibly could. He would never truly be safe in Camelot, not as long as my father is King."

"I know, but I am going to miss him as much as I will miss my father. I need a distraction."

"I've just the one. My father wishes to discuss the details of the wedding ceremony."

"I honestly can't think of anything I would rather do less," she grumbled.

He laughed. "I thought that might be your response. Our fathers have spoken in great length and most of the details have been discussed and finalised, and now our input is required."

"For?"

"We must decide on a date, the royal seamstress must be given time to prepare new attire, guests must be invited, a feast must be planned and prepared..."

"I regret asking," Hermione interrupted with a sigh and he laughed at her.

"Let's begin with the easier task," he suggested. "A date."

"Well, I don't wish to wait too long given the time it took for us to admit our feelings to one another, but I also don't wish to rush the ceremony. As you said, we need to allow time for preparations to be made and I can only imagine the time it will take the royal seamstress to ready my gown. What are your thoughts on the matter?" She tipped her head back to look up at him.

"Neither do I wish to wait too long or rush the ceremony," he agreed. "And despite it being winter and we have yet to see snow, I believe a spring wedding would be best."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "The weather will warm considerably and given that our wedding is to be one of the biggest events to happen in Camelot since your birth, I am certain there will be celebrations that will last for days, if not, weeks, and that means citizens in the streets. The warm weather will better suit them. Perhaps three months?" She recommended. "By this time, we will be in the transitional period of spring and summer, and it should be plenty enough time for the royal seamstress, kitchen to plan the feast and for security to be arranged."

Arthur smiled down at her. "Three months is perfect," he nodded, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Now, we best inform my father, he is waiting for us in the throne room."

Drawing back from her, he settled his hand on the small of her back and guided forward towards the castle.

"I'm not in the mood to be dealing with him this afternoon," she remarked.

Arthur chuckled. "And for that reason, I believe he will be on his best behaviour."

"I will believe it when I see it."

~000~000~000~

Returning to the castle after spending the day in the woods with Akela and her guards, Hermione hadn't expected there to be servants, guards and the like rushing the halls and corridors.

Pursing her lips in confusion, she continued on her journey to her chambers so she might change and ready for dinner. The moment she reached her rooms, Arthur could be seen running down the corridor towards her, his cheeks flushed pink, his sword hitting against his thigh and his cape billowing behind him.

Hermione never had the chance to smile and offer a greeting as he halted to a sudden stop, took her hand and then pulled her into her rooms, the door slamming shut behind them.

"Arthur!" She chastised. "There is no need for such behaviour," she protested.

"Hermione," he breathed out, his chest rising and falling and his eyes shining with worry as he peered down at her. His hands curled around her shoulders, his fingers brushing against her exposed collar bones. "I tried to protect you, I really did, but father wouldn't listen. It's happening. He's here!"

"Arthur," Hermione began calmly, "You are making no sense. Take a breath and speak slowly so you might explain."

He inhaled deeply and his eyes closed for a moment before his gaze locked with hers. He was worried, _frightened_ , she realised. She couldn't remember ever seeing Arthur afraid.

"I'm sorry, I should have told you but I didn't wish for you to worry," he apologised. "I was hoping I could prevent it and I would never have to cause you any distress. I was hoping to protect you."

"I still don't understand," she sighed, pulling herself free of his hold and silently crossing over to her dining table. She took a seat and with a wave of her hand, a second chair appeared for Arthur to occupy.

"Don't do that," his voice rose in panic and his eyes grew wide, and despite them being the only ones present, he darted a glance about the room for any potential witnesses. "You don't understand, you're in danger, you _must_ be careful, more so than usual."

"Again, you are making no sense," Hermione responded, knowing that her annoyance had edged into her tone.

Hearing this, Arthur drew his hand through his hair and moved to perch on the other chair but not before he dragged it beside her own. He took both of her hands in his, his thumbs ghosting over the backs of her hands as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees and he peered up at her.

"Yesterday morning, a woman came to my father claiming to have witnessed an act of magic in the woods."

Hermione's posture stiffened and her grip on his hand tightened. "It wasn't me, Arthur. Yesterday, all of my time was divided between helping to furnish the orphanage and aiding Charles with a child delivery. I don't remember using any magic at all," she promised, seeing his eyes dart towards her door suspiciously. "No one can hear us, I've erected a barrier. Sound cannot leave so long as the door is closed."

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief and gave his head a shake before his bright blue orbs looked to her once more.

"I offered to investigate the woman's claims, I was unsure if you were involved and I wished to protect you from discovery, and if I discovered that you were responsible for the magic she claims to have witnessed, I planned on disproving her claims. But my father denied my request."

Hermione felt her stomach twist into a knot and she swallowed the lump that had formed in the back of her throat.

"You said 'he's here'," she quoted. "Who's here?"

"Aredian. He's a Witchfinder, one of the most vicious in all the lands. I did everything I could to convince my father to allow my Knights and I to search for the one responsible, but he summoned him. He arrived an hour ago, and I offered my aid so I might run interference if needed but he refused. He's residing in the castle for the duration of his stay."

"Oh Gods," Hermione whispered in horror.

"He's notorious for his aggressive methods of investigation and he won't stop until he's found the culprit."

"What are we going to do?"

"Whilst he's here, you must not cast any magic, we both must be careful. I will do my best to keep him away from you but I can't make any promises that you won't meet. He's settling into his rooms and is expected to begin his search in the morning."

"Does Merlin know?"

"Merlin?" Arthur's brow furrow, puzzled by her words.

"He knows my secret. He's in danger, too."

"I believe Gaius is to speak with him. We must remain calm and continue our routines as expected; we must not give him any reason to suspect you. Thankfully, your duties require you to be in multiple places at once and so it will be difficult for Aredian to deliberately seek you out, and as a precaution, I am instructing Sirs Leon and Montague to join Michel and Emerick on guard duty. You are to never be alone, particularly when on the castle grounds."

"Arthur, there is no need for such actions."

"There is every need," he disagreed, "You do not know him, the tales I have heard do not paint Aredian to be a kind man. He is known to burn suspected magic users at the stake, and that is not something I wish for you to neither witness nor experience. I am hoping that the woman's claims are untrue, but if there are, that the one responsible was just a traveller who is not in Camelot. Are there any other magic users in Camelot that you are aware of?"

"No, not that I'm aware of," Hermione lied, knowing that Merlin hadn't yet told Arthur about his magic and he wasn't comfortable in doing so currently. So, for the time being, she had to protect Merlin's secret even if it meant lying to the man she loved. "Harrow was the only one I knew of."

"And it seems him leaving with your father was perfectly timed. Had Aredian arrived a week ago, both your father and Harrow would be in danger of discovery."

Hermione shook her head. "My father's too clever and powerful to allow such a thing to happen. And in all honesty, Witchfinders cannot be trusted."

"Why?"

"True magic users are rarely captured and executed. More often than not, innocent people, mostly women, are tortured and executed. There is no true way to identify a witch. It's believed that should a suspected witch be tied up and thrown into a body of water and she floats, she is a witch. That's not true. It's believed that Holy water is harmful to witches, but it isn't, and neither is silver," she brought notice to her locket and earrings with a gesture of her hand, seeing his eyes follow the movement. "We do not fear God and we do not serve Satan. It's believed that should a suspected witch be pricked with a pin and she does not bleed that she is guilty, but that's not true. Witch's cake, Bible weighing, bleeding the corpse, Devil's marks, they are all false evidence. The only evidence of verification is physically witnessing the magic being cast."

"And if that is the case, everyone is in danger," Arthur remarked, his brow creasing in concern.

"Exactly," she nodded. "Whoever he deems responsible is all but certain to be innocent and they will be condemned for an act they did not commit."

"I'll do everything I possibly can to stop that from happening," he swore. "And I will do everything I can to keep you safe."

"I know," she smiled softly, her hand coming up to his face and her fingers ghosting over his cheek, seeing his eyes close and his head tilt closer to the touch. "Just as I will do the same for you."

"A King is nothing without his Queen, and I am nothing without you."

"You truly are a wonderful man, and I am not certain that I deserve you," she smiled. "Is dinner to happen as usual?"

"Yes, but I told my father that we would not be attending as he invited Aredian this evening."

"That's just as well," replied Hermione. "I do believe that I wouldn't have enough time to make myself presentable for this evening," once more gesturing to herself pointedly.

Arthur's mouth twitched into an amused smile and his head tilted slightly as his eyes examined her appearance, noting the mud and dirt staining her red dress, the dirt on chin, forehead and right cheek, and the leaves and debris caught and tangled in her wilder than usual hair.

"I see you have had a busy day," he commented, reaching up and pulling a brown leaf free from her hair, holding it before her as evidence.

"I spent some time with Kenelm and Farley this morning but I have otherwise been in the woods all day with Akela, needing to restock on some ingredients for my remedies."

"And your appearance?" He arched an eyebrow.

Her lips pursed as she admitted, "I may have gotten my foot caught in a rabbit hole," with a sulky pout. Arthur chuckled and he pushed her hair back from her face lovingly. "And I may have also tripped over a tree root, fallen on my face and rolled down a small hill."

Arthur blinked slowly, torn between amusement and concern.

"I am fine," she assured him before he could ask or search her for injuries. "The only thing hurt is my pride. Michel and Emerick found the ordeal entirely too amusing," she scowled before her mouth pulled into a smug smile, "And as repayment, Akela _accidentally_ tripped them up when chasing a squirrel. Michel almost landed in a pile of horse manure and Emerick almost lost a tooth."

Laughter burst from Arthur and mingled with Hermione's.

"Quite the day indeed, Princess," he gave his head a shake as his laughter trailed off.

A knock on the door sounded and Arthur's eyes snapped to it immediately, his posture straightening and his hand automatically moving to draw his sword.

"Sound is prevented from leaving, not from entering," she explained, rising from her chair, Hermione crossed to the door, hearing Arthur stand from his own chair and step around the table. "Merlin," Hermione greeted, offering the anxious manservant a smile and hearing Arthur's exhale of relief. "Is there something I might help you with?"

Merlin deliberately peered over her shoulder and to Arthur stood by the dining table.

"I was hoping you might spare a moment to speak with me," he replied, barely batting an eye at her appearance.

"Of course," Hermione nodded, stepping aside and allowing Merlin into her rooms before they both looked to Arthur pointedly, the Prince being clueless to their silent request for privacy. "Arthur, might we have a moment alone?" Asked Hermione.

His eyes slowly moved between them, narrowing slightly but he otherwise nodded. "Of course. I must speak with Sirs Leon and Montague but I will return shortly so we might have dinner together. Orders had already been given to bring our meal to your chambers."

"Wonderful, thank you," she smiled.

As he took his leave, his eyes locked with Merlin's as he walked past him and Hermione shut the door behind him.

"Was it you?" She questioned.

"I think it was," Merlin admitted guilty, not bothering to ask for clarification.

"Merlin!" Hermione sighed, her hand coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "You must be more careful!" She chided.

"I'm sorry. I was collecting wood and thought I was alone. I was bored and wanted to practice the smoke manipulation spell your father taught me. I didn't think anyone would see me."

"Well they did," she deadpanned. "Arthur thought it was me."

"Gods, I'm so sorry, Hermione," he apologised profusely. "I didn't mean to get caught."

"The past can't be changed," said Hermione. _Well, it could if she still had the time-turner,_ she silently corrected herself. "Right now, we have to be incredibly careful. Absolutely no magic usage until this has been resolved. Arthur is doing his best to run interference where he can and for the time being, we must follow routine and behave as we usually would. Arthur has asked that I avoid Aredian as much as possible and I suggest you do the same."

Merlin nodded. "I can do that, and no magic, I promise."

Hermione pushed a hand from her hair and moved to take a seat.

"Where's Akela?" Merlin shuffled his feet and awkwardly folded his hands behind his back.

"I don't know, more than likely, the kitchens begging for food, but I wouldn't be surprised if he understands the current happenings in the castle and he's patrolling the area, doing a little security surveillance," she shrugged lazily. "Why haven't you told Arthur about your magic? Now's the perfect time to do so."

"He's not ready," Merlin shrugged.

"He took the discovery of my magic quite well," she argued.

"Arthur loves you, you're to be his wife and Queen."

"And you are his most trusted and loyal servant, and don't tell him I told you this, but he believes you to be his best friend," she told him, seeing his slow blink of surprise. "He might be upset that you kept such a big secret from him, but I honestly believe he will take the news as he did mine. In fact, he was the one to tell me he knew about my magic. He will protect you as he has and does me, especially when he discovers all of the sacrifices you've made for him."

"He's not ready," Merlin repeated, shaking his head vehemently.

"I understand you're scared, I truly do. I was terrified when I discovered Arthur knew but his reaction was most unexpected. I'd feared the worst and he proved me wrong. He knew I had magic and still wished to marry me."

"He loves you," said Merlin.

"And he loves you. He might not admit it out loud, or to himself, but I know he loves you."

"He's not ready."

"Merlin!" Hermione snapped in annoyance.

Merlin flinched and his expression fell, his shoulders slumping. " _I'm_ not ready," he corrected.

Hermione sighed heavily before standing from her seat and crossing to him, taking him by surprise when she reached up and pulled him into a hug. His body was tense and rigid for a moment before he relaxed, folding his arms around her.

"Everything will be fine. Things have a way of working themselves out, we just have to have faith," she promised.

A knock on the door sounded and Hermione called for the person on the other side to enter, drawing back from Merlin and spying Arthur's narrowed gaze at her close proximity to his manservant. She offered him a smile before taking Merlin's face in her hands, forcing him to lock gazes with her.

"I mean it, Merlin. Everything will be fine, just have faith."

"I will," he nodded.

Smiling, she released her hold on him and took a step back, and he took his leave, avoiding Arthur's narrowed-eyed gaze following each step he took.

"Did I miss something?" Arthur questioned innocently, folding his arms over his chest after he closed the door.

"No, I was simply calming Merlin. He is concerned about my safety, is all."

"Really?"

Hermione's mouth twitched. "Really," she confirmed, approaching him. "You have no reason to be jealous."

"I'm not jealous," he denied instantly.

She bit her lip to keep from laughing. "No? My mistake."

She came to a stop before him and she reached up, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth, seeing the tension drain from his body and his expression soften. His folded arms lowered and he drew her closer to him, his arms wrapping around her and locking her against him.

"I love Merlin, but only as a good friend and younger brother. You are the man I agreed to marry, you are the one that I love, and no one will ever compare to you. Just because I show affection to another does not mean I love them more than you or that I love you any less than I did the day before. You are to be my husband, the father of my children and one day, my King."

His hand lifted, pushing her hair back from her face and cupping her cheek. "Eleven weeks," was all he said, staring down at her adoringly.

Hermione smiled. "Eleven weeks," she echoed. "Eleven weeks and we shall be married."

~000~000~000~

"What in God's name is the meaning of this?!" Hermione's voice rose in disbelief.

Returning from the marketplace that morning and dismissing her guards despite Arthur's insistence they be with her at all times, Hermione had not expected to approach her rooms and hear voices from inside.

Pushing the door open completely, she noted three men present. One was tall and skinny, his greying-blonde hair combed back with a receding hairline, his nose long and straight and facial hair, short and scruffy. The other two were similar in appearance, most likely relatives, and they were shorter than the first man and rounder in the stomach with broader shoulders and dark, short hair.

And they weren't just in her room, they were _searching_ it, and rather aggressively, she might add. There was absolutely no need for them to disturb her previously made bed and toss the pillows and blankets to the ground, there was no need for her shoes to be emptied from the cupboard or for her furniture to be in disarray.

"This is your chamber?" Asked the tall one, his dark eyes looking to her suspiciously.

"It is. And who might you be and why are you in here without my permission?"

"Jonathon Aredian," he responded simply, his arms casually folded behind his back.

Hermione swallowed. Arthur was _not_ going to be pleased.

"I am here in search of a Sorcerer after a witness came forward to report an act of magic."

"That does not answer my question of why you are in my rooms without my permission," said Hermione, removing the basket from the crook of her arm and setting it aside on the ground. "And neither does it explain why you are being so heavy-handed. The items in this room are not your property and therefore you have no right to touch or damage it."

"I have King Uther's blessing to search any room I wish in this castle."

"That may be so, but again, that does not give you the right to treat my belongings so roughly. If I discover anything to be broken or damaged, you will most certainly be paying for a replacement," she folded her arms over her chest and squared her shoulders, standing her ground.

"Have you seen any unusual activity in the last three days?" He probed, not acknowledging her previous statement. "Anything that might be considered unexplainable or magical?"

"No, I can't say I have."

"Nothing at all?" He pressed.

"No, nothing at all," she confirmed firmly.

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "There is a drawer on the desk that is locked. I would like you to open it."

"I don't particularly care what you would like me to do. What is inside of that drawer is none of your concern."

"The cabinets are locked also. I would like them opened."

"No, inside those cabinets is something that I deem to be invaluable, priceless, and I don't wish for it to be damaged."

"If you do not respond to my request I will speak with King Uther and you will be punished for insubordination."

"No, I won't," Hermione replied confidently. "King Uther holds no power over me."

Their gazes locked in a battle of will and the only reason Hermione drew her gaze from his is she noted one of the men (both still searching her room) heading for her father's sword which was mounted on the wall.

"Don't touch that!" She cried, darting further into the room and towards the sword in an attempt to retrieve it before the man did.

As her fingers brushed the blade of the sword, she felt a meaty hand clamp tight around her upper arm and tug her backwards, Hermione almost tripping over her own feet and falling to the ground before she was able to find her balance.

"Release me," she ordered coolly but her eyes were the opposite, spitting and blazing with fire.

She felt the hand tighten its grip and pain spiked through her.

"Release me, now," she repeated, her tone growing darker.

"You are interfering in my investigation," said Aredian, drawing her attention.

"And he is hurting me. You might have permission to search any room you wish but you do not have permission to harm those in this castle. Release me, now, or it will be the biggest mistake of your life."

"Is that so?" He challenged.

"Yes."

A vicious snarl sounded suddenly and Hermione's eyes snapped to the doorway, seeing the bowed back, flat ears and bared teeth of her wolf.

The grip on her tightened painfully whilst a muttered curse of surprise was heard.

"If you do not release me, he _will_ kill you. And I won't stop him," Hermione warned.

It seemed Akela's snarls had been heard in the castle as a rush of footfalls could be heard echoing in the hallway before Arthur burst into the room, his expression immediately morphing into murderous fury. Behind him were Sirs Leon and Montague, the two Knights looking equally as furious as they did horrified, their hands resting atop their swords and ready to draw at a moment's notice.

"What in the goods God name is happening here?!" Arthur demanded, his tone so low it had the same impact as if he'd had shouted it. "Unhand the Princess or I will have you imprisoned," he ordered.

"Princess?" Aredian tipped his head, apparently unconcerned.

The man was a few sickles short of a galleon, thought Hermione. Only an idiot would gamble with his life.

"Release her, or we shall use force," Sir Leon added, making a show of pulling his sword.

The man's grip loosened enough to allow her to pull herself free and she quickly crossed to Arthur, the Prince taking her into his arms and holding her to him tightly before drawing back and searching her expression.

"What happened?" He questioned, one hand settled on her unharmed upper arm and the other her cheek, seeing her eyes blazing with fiery fury and her cheeks flushed pink.

"I returned here from my trip to the marketplace to find them searching my room. Seeing the mess they've made and damage caused, I tried to stop them from taking my father's sword," she explained quietly.

She didn't think it was possible but his expression darkened. It reminded her of the day Thorley Harte had attempted to kill her.

"Where are your guards? They are supposed to be with you at all times."

"I had no plans to leave my rooms and I wasn't expecting any trouble; I sent them to the kitchens so they might have some lunch. This is not their fault, it's mine."

"No, it's not. You should be safe in your own chambers," he disagreed, drawing back from her and gently nudging her behind him, whilst Akela moved to stand before him, his snarls having stopped but he didn't lose his defensive stance. "I will be speaking to my father regarding this transgression," Arthur promised.

"I have King Uther's blessing to search any room I wish," replied Aredian calmly.

"Yes, but you do not have permission to enter a _Royal's_ private chambers without their permission or presence, and certainly not that of Princess Hermione, my betrothed," said Arthur, his tone cold and his anger known in the flashing of his blue eyes and the hard expression on his face. "And he will not be pleased when he discovers that you allowed one of your men to lay hands upon the Princess. I will also be sending a missive to King Godric, informing him of this transgression against his daughter and I am positive he will demand punishment."

"All she needed do is open the draw and cabinets as I requested, but she refused."

"That does not give you leave to place hands upon her. Not only is she my betrothed, but she is a Princess by _birth_. Harming a woman above your station is grounds for execution."

"She will be fine," he said dismissively.

"That is no excuse," Arthur snapped, and sensing that he was losing his grip on his anger, Hermione set her hand on his shoulder, offering calm and comfort.

"I am fine," she assured the Prince. "They are lucky Akela did not attack on sight, or that I did not use my dagger."

"If you have nothing to hide, open the drawer and cabinets," Aredian challenged.

Hermione felt Arthur's tension but it wasn't caused by anger. It was worry and fear.

"Very well," she agreed, "But I am not having your men touch my belongings, I don't wish them to be damaged. Sir Montague, would you please do as the man asks?"

From beneath her sleeve, Hermione removed three keys on a key ring and pressed them into the large man's palm. Stepping around them, he crossed to the desk and silently opened the drawer, removing a jewellery box. Nodding her permission for him to open it, Arthur slipped his arm around Hermione and pulled her into his side protectively.

When Sir Montague opened the jewellery box, he showed the contents to those in the room, it simply holding a pouch of gold and an oddly, messily made necklace consisting of wire and pebbles.

"Kenelm made it for me, I didn't want to lose it," said Hermione quietly, and she felt Arthur's hand gently squeeze her hip in response.

Once the jewellery box was returned and the drawer was locked, Sir Montague crossed to the cabinets, opening them both to reveal a number of books, all appropriately fitted with an Illusion Charm to disguise the true titles. Only she and Merlin knew the truth.

"That is what you consider as valuable," remarked Aredian.

"Yes, it is," Hermione responded coolly. "Now that you have you gotten as you wish, I would appreciate it if you would return this room as to how you found it."

"Do not mistake her politeness," continued Arthur, "It was not a comment but an order. Do it."

~000~000~000~

"He laid hands on the Princess?" King Uther repeated slowly.

"Yes, Father, he did," Arthur nodded, his words coming out through gritted teeth.

His hands were fisted down by his sides as he stood before his father's throne, having just finished explaining the happenings in Hermione's chambers. He should've seen this coming. He'd wanted to keep her as far away from Aredian as possible and not even twenty-four hours later he was ransacking her rooms and allowing his men to lay their hands on her.

"I believe Akela sensed that something was amiss and we followed him to Hermione's chambers. I overheard her ask that he remove his hands from her, twice, and he did not listen. It's a wonder Akela did not attack on sight."

Arthur's gaze darted down to the wolf sat before his lady protectively but his gaze was held on the one that had harmed Hermione.

"Sirs Leon and Montague will stand as witnesses should it be required."

"Aredian," his father began, his gaze moving to the Witchfinder. "It is a crime to harm a Royal, and not only does Princess Hermione possess her title through birth, but she is to be my son's wife and one day, Queen. Should I not call for punishment, her father, King Godric, most certainly will. Guards, escort the one responsible to the dungeons, his punishment will be decided at a later date," he instructed, barely batting an eye when the man attempted a struggle but was ultimately led away. "Aredian, by all rights, you are susceptible to punishment as you failed to control your men."

"I was unaware of her status, or that it was her chambers, Your Grace," he defended calmly.

"That is no excuse," Arthur snapped, receiving an unimpressed glance from his father and feeling Hermione's hand curl around his bicep as she pressed herself against him from behind.

"And did you find anything of note?"

"A sword."

"We already know of the sword," King Uther gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "It once belonged to the Princess' deceased brother, the sword being a replica of her father's."

"Your Grace, are you aware that it is borne of magic? I can smell it."

"Magic does _not_ have a scent," Hermione scoffed quietly from behind him, sending the Witchfinder a narrowed-eye glare.

"Yes, I am," King Uther darted a glance towards Hermione. "During his visit, King Godric discussed the making of his sword in great detail."

"Yes, you say his Kingdom is accepting of magic?" He questioned, despite already knowing the answer.

"If you have something you wish to say, then do so," Hermione voiced loudly.

"Very well," he tipped his head in acquiesce. "You hail from a Kingdom that accepts magic, and you are in possession of a magical artefact, both are factors that might be used as evidence to prove that you are a sorcerer."

Arthur's heart halted to a stop and his throat tightened to the point where he couldn't breathe.

"Honestly," Hermione sighed and gave her head a shake, Arthur noting the calmness of her body language and her voice. She wasn't worried, she had a plan, he realised. "Firstly, I am not a sorcerer, but I admit that I sometimes wish I did have access to such power. Imagine the people that could be helped and saved with the aid of magic. Secondly, if I was capable of magic, I most certainly wouldn't be dim-witted enough to perform such acts whilst it is known there is a Witchfinder in town, specifically searching for a sorcerer. I would be in hiding, not stood before you. And, finally, at the times of the witnessed magical acts, I was surrounded by two guards, two Knights and I was in the marketplace. It most certainly was not me, and I am most certainly not a sorcerer. Would you care for more evidence? I am wearing silver in my ears and around my neck. And if you are finished with your preposterous insinuations and accusations, I would like to leave. I am required at the orphanage to aid with finalising the furnishings so we might begin rounding up the children and help them transition into the home."

"That is all, Princess," King Uther nodded. "I apologise for all that you have faced today."

Tipping her head, she curtsied before turning and taking her leave, Akela at her side. As she stepped out into the courtyard, she paused in her steps and turned to face Arthur, offering him a smile and being unsurprised when he pulled her into a relieved hug or that he'd followed her.

"That was entirely too close for comfort," he said against her ear.

"I didn't lie. I am not a sorcerer, I am a witch."

Arthur huffed out a disbelieving laugh. "You are the most fearless women I've ever met." He drew back from her. "I was under the impression the orphanage is fully furnished," he tipped his head questioningly.

"It is," she nodded.

"You're planning something, aren't you?"

"Yes. Aredian is going to blame anyone he can. The only reason I wasn't carted off to the dungeons immediately after his accusation is that I'm Royalty. In most circumstances, those suspected of magic use would not be given the opportunity to defend themselves as I did. He's up to something and I'm going to find out what it is."

"Be careful," Arthur warned.

"I always am," she promised, reaching up to press a quick kiss to his mouth before she headed into the city, Akela, two guards and two Knights following her.

~000~000~000~

"What are we going to do?!"

Hermione watched in concern as Merlin paced back and forth, his hands buried in his hair and gripping at the strands.

"We've less than twelve hours to save him. He only confessed to protect me, it should be me in the dungeons, it should be me that's sentenced to death," Merlin muttered, his eyes glued to the floor.

"Merlin, you know Gaius would never allow that to happen," Hermione spoke, her voice soft and quiet. "And whilst we might not have much time, we will prove his innocence."

"You didn't see him, Hermione," he shook his head vehemently. "They were _torturing_ him. He confessed because Aredian threatened to name me as an accomplice, a sorcerer."

"What he did was very brave, and I will be sure to give him the best treatment possible when we prove his innocence and he's released. Now, we best get to work, do we have a starting point?" Hermione stood from her chair and clasped her hands together.

Merlin released a grumbled sigh and finally halted to a stop, turning to face her and lifting his eyes from the ground, his expression guilty, dejected and hopeless.

"The bracelet Aredian found, it's not mine. I've never seen it before."

"He most likely planted it to frame you," Hermione surmised. "If he is in possession of one magical artefact, it is likely he has more."

"I'll search his chamber," Merlin suggested.

"It's too dangerous, we'll find another way, a _safer_ way."

"We don't have the time," he protested.

"Very well," she admitted defeat, "But I will do it. You are already a suspect and should you be caught, you will be sharing Gaius' fate. Should I be caught, I am least likely to be punished and Arthur will not allow it."

"The King might perceive your behaviour as an act of insubordination and break your engagement to Arthur. I can't let that happen. He needs you, Camelot needs you."

"We need you, too," she argued.

"I'm replaceable."

"Not to me you're not, and neither are you to Arthur," she glared at him.

"I'm going to search his chambers, whether you approve or not."

Hermione sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "And I can't stop you," she admitted. He was too powerful. "But for the love of God, be careful, do not get caught and avoid magic use. I will wait for you here, if you do not return in thirty minutes, I will assume the worst."

~000~000~000~

"There were no magical artefacts that I could find, but I did find this," Merlin panted, his hands braced on his knees as he bent over at the waist, and he held the pinkish-purple petal out towards her. "Do you know what it is? I don't recognise it."

Hermione gave him a look of worry but he waved off her concerns and gestured to the petal that sat in the palm of her hand.

"It looks similar to a herb known as belladonna, or perhaps you might better know it as deadly nightshade."

"That's comforting," Merlin grumbled.

"It's used in numerous medicinal remedies," she explained, ignoring his comment. "It's easily sourced in this area, however, the colouring of the petals is too pale compared to the belladonna I use. Does Gaius use it in his remedies?"

"Not that I know of," Merlin shook his head and stood to full height, having recovered from his sprint from Aredian's chambers and to hers. "At least, I've never seen it in his stores. You said the colouring is different?"

"Yes, this is most likely a sub-species," she mused, "But as far as I'm aware, they all hold the same purpose." Silently, she summoned _1001 Plants and Herbs Native to Britain_ from her cabinet and searched through the pages until she found the section she needed, placing the book on the table and Merlin came to stand beside her. "Here it is," she gestured to the page and held the petal against the illustration, comparing them.

"Belladonna, you were right," said Merlin.

"As I said, they relatively have the same purpose, however, this particular sub-species appears to induce hallucinations when more than the recommended amount is ingested."

"Hallucinations?" Merlin echoed thoughtfully.

"Yes, seeing things that aren't there."

"Such as goblins dancing on fire coals, faces in water and toads jumping from a man's mouth," he supplied.

"Exactly," she nodded. "There is no reason for Aredian to be in possession of such a herb, and I can't imagine he knows where it grows. He would have had to buy it."

"The apothecary," Merlin's expression lit up with hope.

"The apothecary, I'm sure we'll get the answers we need from there, however, it will be shut for the evening. If you head there first thing in the morning, I'll do my best to delay the execution, if needs be, I'll cause a magical distraction."

"It's too dangerous and Arthur wouldn't allow it," Merlin argued.

"If it will help save Gaius, I'll take that risk. For the time being, try and get some sleep. Later this evening, I will sneak down to the dungeons and see about providing Gaius with some food and company."

"If you're caught..."

"I won't be," she promised.

~000~000~000~

"Your Highness, you should not be here," said the Court Physician, his eyes wide in disbelief as they darted towards the door.

"But I am," she offered a smile and slipped her hands through the cast iron bars, one offering a drink of water and the other, an apple, two slices of bread and some cheese.

"If King Uther discovers..."

"He won't," she interrupted, "Now, please eat, you know as well as I that it is important to keep up your strength after the ordeal you've faced."

"How did you get past the guards?" He questioned, reluctantly taking the offerings from her and moving to sit on the single stool in the centre of the tiny cell.

"I simply asked for a moment alone with you."

He arched an eyebrow, at least, she thought he did. She could never tell.

"What?" She smiled. "Whilst King Uther currently occupies the throne, he will not be King forever, and as the future Queen, the guards have made the decision to not anger me."

"Camelot will be in good hands," Gaius toasted before sipping from his water.

"It will," she agreed, "For you are not leaving."

"Your Highness..." He began with a tired sigh, but she interrupted.

"I will not hear of it, Gaius. Merlin and I are currently gathering evidence to prove your innocence, and although I do not have the time I would like, I believe we will be successful. Tomorrow is not going to be your last day."

~000~000~000~

"Arthur, you have to stop this," Hermione pleaded from her place beside him, unable to tear her gaze from the pyre that had been built, nor the Court Physician that was strapped to it.

"My father gave the order, I can't interfere," Arthur shook his head solemnly.

"To Hell with your father!" Hermione hissed, Arthur's eyes darting to her in surprise. He'd never heard her curse before. "We both know he's not currently in the right frame of mind to make any decisions, particularly one as severe of this. Is this the example you want to be setting? You're to be King, is this what your city is to be subjected to when you are crowned? That man has been in your life from the day you were born. He took care of you when you were ill, he treated you when you were injured, he offered sound advice when needed. Are you really going to let him die? What if that were me up there? Would you allow it? He is innocent, we both know he is. We just need to give Merlin as much time as possible to get back here, so we might present the evidence. The man I agreed to marry was willing to do anything to protect the innocent. Are you or are you not the man I thought you to be?"

His mouth had actually fallen open in surprise, and if the circumstances were different, she might have found it quite comical.

"You are not yet King, but you are the Prince of Camelot, and you do still have power. It is how you chose to use it that matters."

His mouth closed, his stance straightened and he nodded slowly.

"You're right. It's not right that this happens. Gaius has always been loyal to my family."

Turning away from her, his eyes narrowed and he stalked forward, Hermione watching in both relief and pride as Arthur tore the torch from Aredian's hand, preventing him from lighting the pyre.

~000~000~000~

"You undermined my authority, Arthur," King Uther said gravely, his anger barely controlled but seen in his eyes and body language.

"Yes, I did," Arthur acknowledged, his arms folded behind his back, hiding his clenched fists.

Hermione stood a little ways behind him, her eyes darting between the King and Prince worriedly. Morgana stood by the wall, Gaius was shackled and held by two guards and Aredian stood off to the right, his fury at being interrupted palpable.

"But it was the right action to take. Had I not, Gaius would have died," Arthur defended.

"As per my order," the King replied, his tone cold and serious.

"Your Grace," Hermione drew attention to herself and she moved to stand beside Arthur, ignoring his silent expression of warning for her to not get involved. "Do not blame Arthur. I asked him to intervene and delay the execution." She clasped her hands before her delicately and set her shoulders, lifting her chin. "Your Grace, Gaius is innocent."

"He confessed," said the King. "He has a history of practising sorcery."

"That may be so, Your Grace, but Gaius is not responsible for the claims of sorcery in Camelot. He confessed under duress, Aredian is known for his vicious methods of persuasion, or so I have been told. I must admit that since his arrest, I have been working alongside Merlin to gather evidence that we might present to you. We discovered that Aredian is in possession of belladonna, a herb that is used in medicinal remedies, but if more than the recommended amount is ingested, it is known to cause hallucinations. Merlin is currently speaking with the owner of the apothecary..."

Hearing footsteps and voices, Hermione peered over her shoulder, seeing Merlin enter the throne room with a man and three women in tow, the witnesses.

"That was perfectly timed," she remarked pleasantly. "Merlin, would you like to share what you discovered?"

"Your Grace," Merlin bowed briefly. "This is the owner of the apothecary, he has confessed that the witnesses Aredian presented purchased Belladonna from him, after Aredian forced him to sell it."

"Thank you, Merlin," Hermione nodded. "You see, Your Grace, Aredian is responsible, not Gaius. I confess, I did sneak past the guards yesterday evening to visit with Gaius and he swore he has never before seen the bracelet that was presented as evidence. Given what we know, it would not be unreasonable to assume that it was planted as a way to deliberately frame Gaius."

"I did no such thing!" Aredian protested. "He is the one responsible, not I."

"Perhaps, Father, a search of his rooms might be performed?" Suggested Arthur, his gaze briefly darting to Hermione in surprised pride. "If this is true and he did frame Gaius, he cannot be trusted and a crime was committed. If he is in possession of one magical artefact, perhaps he has another."

"Guards! Search his chambers!" Ordered King Uther.

~000~000~000~

"I AM INNOCENT!" Aredian protested loudly. "I have never seen those items!" He gestured towards the pile of amulets that lay on the ground before King Uther, spilling out from the small chest that was unable to hold the full amount.

"They were found in your chambers," Arthur responded. "Not only did you attempt to persecute an innocent man, not only have you intruded on the privacy of a Royal and allowed harm to be brought to her, not only have you provided false witnesses, but _you_ are the one responsible for the sorcery."

"No, I am not a sorcerer!" He bellowed, spittle flying from his mouth and his cheeks flushing in anger.

It was too perfect, thought Hermione, as in that very moment, the Witchfinder began dry heaving until a toad unexpectedly fell from his mouth, landing on the floor and hopping away. It seemed that Merlin hadn't been able to help himself, no matter of the fact she'd told him to cease in using magic for the time being.

It was silent for all of five seconds before King Uther called,

"Sorcerer! Seize him!"

As the guards in the room slowly advanced towards him, in his panic he reached for Hermione. Having not expected it, she wasn't able to escape his clutches and he tugged her against his chest, her back to him with one arm firmly slotted around her middle, her arms pinned in place and he held a knife to her throat, the one he'd pulled from the scabbard around his hip.

Gasps of horror sounded, King Uther rose from his throne and his hand went to his sword, and Hermione saw Arthur's expression fluctuate between fury and fear as he drew his sword and took a threatening step forward, halting when the blade of the knife pressed further into her skin as a threat.

"Don't take another step! I'll kill her!"

He was trying to edge his way towards the door so he might escape but even if he was successful, Hermione knew he wouldn't get very far. Not only was the castle filled with guards and Knights, she knew Arthur wouldn't rest until he was found and executed.

And when a vicious snarl sounded, Hermione's eyes being drawn to the doors as Akela made his presence known, he prowled forward, his teeth bared and growls rumbling in his throat as he stalked his prey.

Aredian's exit was blocked. If he wished to escape, he had to get pas her wolf first, and Akela wouldn't allow it. He slowly retreated backwards and if he continued, they'd soon be cornered. For every step he took backwards, the guards, Arthur and Akela took one forward.

Feeling his heart pounding in his chest against her back and hearing his heavy breathing, Hermione felt the slight loosening of his hold on her and she took the opportunity. Raising her leg, she stomped down on his foot, using his surprise against him and bringing her elbow back, it connecting with his stomach. When he huffed out a groan of surprise and pain, she spun to face him before her closed fist collided with his jaw.

He stumbled back, the knife falling from his grasp before she deliberately dropped to the floor, Akela taking a running leap over her body and landing with a soft thud. Aredian stumbled back further as Akela deliberately toyed with him, and when he tripped over the chest of amulets, he lost his footing, tumbling straight through the window and falling to his death.

All of that happened in less than a minute.

She hadn't even climbed to her feet before Arthur was crouched before her, his sword on the ground and his hands moving to cup her face, his wide, panicked gaze examining her, seeing the trickle of blood that ran down her throat. The blade had pierced her skin. That was the second time someone had held a knife to her throat, not including the times' swords and wands were used.

"I'm fine," she offered.

He looked only slightly relieved when his eyes closed and his forehead tilted forward to press against hers, exhaling sharply. Drawing back, his eyes opened and he peered down at her right hand, seeing the redness of her knuckles. One hand came away from her face and moved to gently grasp it.

"I have never been prouder of you," he muttered, bringing her hand up to his mouth and pressing a tender kiss to her injured knuckles. She smiled at him. "Let's get you tended to. If he weren't already dead, I'd kill him for daring to touch you," he promised.

"I believe you would have to speak with Akela first," she responded, both of their gazes darting to the broken window and the guards that hovered nearby, seeing that Akela was sat amidst the chaos, looking as dejected as a wolf possibly could.

"Is he _sulking_?" Arthur questioned slowly.

"Yes, I believe he is. He _really_ wanted to kill Aredian."

Arthur's mouth twitched into a smile. "I believe he has earned a slice of apple pie, this evening, perhaps a generous helping of cheese, too."

"You spoil him," Hermione laughed softly and she allowed Arthur to help her to her feet, noting that he didn't release her hand.

"Princess," Hermione heard King Uther say, and he approached. "I am truly sorry for all that you have faced."

Hermione set her shoulders and lifted her chin, feeling Arthur's gaze on her.

"I wish I could say I forgive you, Your Grace, but I cannot. All of this could have been avoided had you listened to reason. I understand your hatred for magic and sorcery, but you are allowing it to cloud your judgement. This day, Gaius almost lost his life, and I might have suffered the same fate," she held his gaze, noting his surprise. "If you will please excuse me, I best tend to my injuries."

Without a second glance or the expected curtsey, she turned and took her leave, Akela falling into step beside her. Before she stepped through the doors, she nodded towards Merlin, seeing the sorcerer's smile and sigh of relief.

~000~000~000~

"I am glad this day is over, and Aredian is no longer able to cause problems," remarked Arthur.

Neither she nor Arthur had attended dinner with his father, they'd opted to take it in her chambers and whilst Akela slept before the roaring fire, she and Arthur were taking a stroll around the castle grounds before they retired for the night.

"It has been a stressful few days," Hermione agreed. "And I am sorry for my words to you this morning."

"You have no need to apologise," he assured her, the hand holding hers giving it a gentle squeeze. "You were right, as always. I have always found it difficult to stand up to my father, but you gave me the nudge that I needed to do so and I am happy that I did. Gaius is alive and well, and you were incredible, both in proving his innocence and fighting Aredian."

She smiled up at him, it had long since grown dark and she wasn't entirely certain he could see, but she smiled anyway. "Thank you, but I cannot take the credit. Merlin was incredibly brave in publicly accusing Aredian of being a fraud. He was the one to break into Aredian's chambers and bring me the evidence that led us to discover his use of belladonna, and he maintained Gaius' innocence. He is quite the young man."

"How are you feeling?"

"Perfectly fine," she swore, "There is no cause for concern. It is but a small cut and the swelling of my hand has already reduced, there is little pain. But given the events of this week, I feel I should share something with you, something important."

"And that is?" He arched an eyebrow, Hermione being able to see the gesture as they passed a lit torch, more appearing as they drew closer to the castle.

"My father shared something with me about my birth mother. Whilst she did not possess magic as we do, she was gifted with sight."

Arthur halted to a stop, turning to face her. "She was a Seer?" Both of his eyebrows shot up, disappearing beneath the strands of hair that fell over his forehead.

"Yes, she was. I feel it best I tell you this for the reason that, ever since I was a little girl, I would often have strange dreams, but I could never remember them or make sense of them. And I often find myself just knowing things, feelings things, without any explanation."

Arthur's brow furrowed thoughtfully.

"After speaking with my father, he believes that I might have some inclination for the gift of sight. As I age, it will either improve to the point I have visions, it might fade into nothing, or it might stay as it is. Regardless, sometimes I get these feelings..."

"And?" He prompted knowingly.

She sighed heavily. "And, I _feel_ that what happened this week with Aredian is just the beginning. I _feel_ that trouble has not yet finished coming to Camelot. And I _feel_ that things are only going to get more difficult."

"As long as it does not occur during the week of our wedding, together we will triumph, as man and wife, and someday, King and Queen of Camelot. Whatever might be heading our way, I do not fear for I have you."


End file.
